


Work

by aishahiwatari



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Boss Jim, Boss/Employee Relationship, Coming Untouched, Daddy Kink, Daddy Leonard, Dirty Talk, Engineering Company AU, M/M, Mirror Sex, Oral Sex, Phone Sex, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Seriously guys so much daddy kink, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-06-28 04:53:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19805152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aishahiwatari/pseuds/aishahiwatari
Summary: "So now I have to work under some new kid who has no idea what the company even does, and I'm supposed to believe it's a coincidence that he's related to one of the board members? I'm going to be told what to do every damn day by some- are you even listening?""To be honest I sort of drifted off at the end there, thinking about how it would feel to have your tongue in my mouth."Leonard sighs. But why not? It's just sex, that's all.He'll never even see Jim again.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just in case you missed the tags, there is so much daddy kink in this. All the other stuff that happens pretty much revolves around that central theme.
> 
> Also don't learn too much from this and probably use condoms in real life, kthanks.

"You're firing me?" Leonard can hardly believe this. He's done nothing wrong, has worked so damn hard every day ever since he joined the Biomedical sector of Enterprise Engineering years ago, and yet when they start restructuring he's the one called first into the office for a chat with the head of HR. They'd barely have half the product range they do now if it weren't for him.

"We're not firing you, Doctor-" Alexander, the head of HR, is an irritating asshole with a voice that's meant to sound soothing, Leonard imagines. Mostly he comes across as condescending, and Leonard is in no mood for it.

"Really? Because it seems like you're doing away with my position entirely."

"Well, your role as it is will no longer exist. But there is a similar role within the new structure that we would like to offer you. As Executive Manager."

Leonard is more than experienced enough to know what those words actually mean, jumped up and superior as they sound. "So you're demoting me."

"We don't want to lose your skills, Doctor. You have been a valuable asset to this company for many years."

"Is there a pay cut, too?"

"The pay structure is suitably adjusted, yes. And the benefits."

Leonard sighs. He puts his head in his hands. What sort of choice does he have? He needs to pay his damn mortgage.

-

"So now I have to work under some new kid who has no idea what the company even does, and I'm supposed to believe it's a coincidence that he's related to one of the board members? I'm going to be told what to do every damn day by some- are you even listening?"

"To be honest I sort of drifted off at the end there, thinking about how it would feel to have your tongue in my mouth."

Leonard sighs. He's just finished his first bourbon, and any more than that on Monday night would just be excessive and irresponsible. He's been venting to a total stranger whose only sin is that he showed the slightest bit of interest quite some time ago. A total stranger who's been surprisingly patient, actually, and looks very, very good, now that Leonard thinks about it. He was too mired in self-pity before but now that he looks, takes in artfully tousled blond hair, brilliant blue eyes, the top buttons of a shirt undone just enough to show a tantalising strip of a toned chest- "You wanna fuck, we'll have to do it at your place. I've got a sitter 'til ten."

"Is she hot?"

"He is seventeen."

"My place it is!"

-

"God, you're hot. I knew you'd be hot." Jim has at no point stopped talking since they fell into a cab, kissing hard, Leonard too far gone to feel embarrassed about any of it in front of a driver who has definitely seen worse. They've exchanged names, although Jim snorted at his and promised him a nickname Leonard isn't entirely anticipating. Other than that, the only words out of Jim's mouth have been praise and compliments for his general appearance, manner and being.

There should have been more, Leonard knows, some semblance of discussion or common sense, but he's feeling self-destructive and impulsive, and Jim is utterly gorgeous.

Somehow, they make it to the hallway of Jim's apartment building, Jim only vaguely fumbling for his keys while Leonard shoves him up against the wall and attacks his mouth with fervour, attempting to swallow the many uninhibited noises he makes with no thought for his neighbours. They're lovely noises, though, and Jim is taut and responsive beneath him. Leonard doesn't usually do this, but tonight has conspired to bring him to just the right combination of need, a willing partner and the lack of concern for his own safety necessary to enable him.

"Damnit, man, where the hell are your keys?" Leonard growls, against Jim's neck, when they seem to be making progress towards nothing but grinding helplessly against one another in a practically public space. When he bites down, though, Jim groans and sags, revelling in the attention. It's not even dark out, yet.

When Leonard releases him, Jim grins unrepentantly, eyes dark and lidded, although he does find the coordination to rummage in his pockets with slightly more conviction. In the end, Leonard bites him on the jaw with a sound of frustration and gets his own hand in the pocket of Jim's jeans. It makes Jim squirm, seeking more pressure where he wants it, and damn but it's good to feel that he's as hard as Leonard is, just from some frankly teenaged levels of making out, but also Leonard wraps his fingers around a keyring and pulls. He's the one who actually gets them through the door, too, Jim entirely unhelpful, Leonard beginning to suspect he's doing it on purpose.

"Good thing you're cute," he mutters, as he gets the door closed behind them by shoving Jim up against it just to hear him groan. "Get that shirt off or I'll tear it off you."

Then, Jim shivers, and jumps to obey. Leonard draws just enough back to watch him, hands on the door either side of his head, and Jim's eyes flicker to him as he works dutifully at the buttons. 

"You want me to be a little rough with you, darlin'?" Leonard asks him. Jim strikes him as being old enough and experienced enough to know what he wants. As much as Leonard thinks he knows what that is, he has to know he's getting the right impression of what they're doing here. He really hopes that he is. He's got a little frustration to work out, productively. Consensually.

"I've been really, really bad, daddy," Jim says, in lieu of an answer and more of one than anything else could possibly have been. 

For a moment Leonard can only stare, taken aback, his mind caught somewhere on the finer details before he can reconcile any of it. "Alright. I can work with that. But-" He takes hold of Jim's jaw, takes in his blown-wide pupils, his heavy breathing, the flush across his cheeks. When he presses in close he can feel how hard Jim is against his hip. "I decide when you've been bad. And I think you just need a chance to be very, very good. You do that for me, baby?"

Jim licks his lips, considers him for a moment, more apprehensive than reluctant, Leonard thinks. Then he nods.

"Good boy." Leonard squeezes a little harder, not quite with his praise, but close enough that Jim can pretend, if he wants, that it's why his breath catches and his hips shift. "Now get that shirt off. And help me with mine. We don't have all night."

With clear instructions, Jim seems to gain confidence. He slips his shirt back off his shoulders and flings it across the room, peels Leonard's from him more gently and then folds it with impressive precision considering his shaking hands, and places it on the arm of the couch. Leonard lets him wait, wondering if he's done well, his frame tense and almost panting, for a few breaths before he nods, and says, "Show me your bedroom."

Jim shyly takes his hand, and pulls him, clearly in a hurry himself but making an effort to go slow enough for anticipation to build. Leonard appreciates that. He'll reward him for it, although whether Jim sees it that way is up to him.

The bedroom is neat, pretty sparse. The sort of space that someone doesn't really spend much time in. Leonard tries not to read into that. He lets Jim pull him in the direction of the bed, tries to decide whether he likes the boyish, innocent act, the lip-biting and the flushed cheeks and the hesitance before he stops, gripping Jim's fingers so he does, too.

Whether he thinks he likes it or not, he's hard, pressing uncomfortably against the confines of his pants. "Let me," he says, when Jim would have reached for his own fly, slowly and deliberately unwraps his present.

Jim shivers. He can't possibly be cold. Leonard abandons his pants, unbuttoned and just clinging to his hips to cradle his face, to draw him in for a kiss, gentle and deep. It makes Jim tremble, a full-body shudder travelling up his spine, soothed away by the warmth of Leonard's hands. "If you need to stop, you just tell me, alright?"

"I don't- keep going. If- you want."

"Oh, I do," Leonard purrs in his ear, then kisses it, trails his lips down, presses them against Jim's pounding pulse point, hears his rumbling little moan of pleasure. He wants to hear more of those, sucks and bites while his hands drift lower, finishing the job he'd already started. Jim's pants drop to the floor, and he glances at Leonard for permission -oh, sweet Jesus, Leonard does like that- before kicking off his shoes and stepping out of them. He looks fantastic. He watches Leonard watch him, and he waits for further instructions.

Leonard can't bring himself to speak. Instead, he sets a hand on Jim's shoulder, and pushes down. It makes him sink to his knees, slow and graceful, like he's done it before, and look at Leonard with a wordless plea as he leans in.

"Go on," Leonard allows, and Jim nuzzles at the bulge in his pants, first with his nose and then his lips, learning the shape of him, pulling back only as much as is entirely necessary when Leonard unbuckles his belt, undoes his fly, lets his pants drop. He's still wearing his briefs, black, tight fabric stretched over the shape of him, hard and wanting, and Jim kisses up the underside of his shaft, lathes with his tongue, gets the fabric damp, his eyes lidded all the while like there's nothing else he'd rather be doing. 

He lets out a soft, warm little huff of air when Leonard toys with his waistband, raises those pretty eyes to meet Leonard's and plead, wordlessly. He's perfect. Leonard indulges him, lets his briefs drop and kicks the whole mess of clothing aside so they're both naked. He should feel nervous, anxious, concerned that maybe this isn't a good idea. Instead, his cock twitches, beading pre-come at the tip, and Jim strains towards it like a drowning man after oxygen.

Leonard pets his hair, soothes him, but he doesn't take his eyes off the head of Leonard's cock for a moment, watching the fluid drip slowly down the underside of his shaft. He swallows like his mouth might actually be watering at the sight.

"Open your mouth," Leonard says, and Jim does, meeting his eyes, pleading, desperate and needy. His own cock is hard, jutting straight up, demanding attention. They'll get to that. "Stick out your tongue."

Jim does. He whimpers when Leonard wraps a hand around the base of his own cock, brings it down to smear that gathered fluid across the wet softness that has been so willingly offered. It feels good, would feel better if Leonard could just shove into his throat and take, but there is a certain anticipatory thrill in making them both wait when it's clear that Jim is the one suffering more. The thought pulses another bead of fluid onto Jim's tongue. 

"Gorgeous boy," Leonard mutters, without thinking, because it's true, and because he's feeling benevolent with the hot, aching head of his cock resting on that soft, pink cushion. Jim's brow creases, though, his eyes showing his doubt, and then he gasps, swaying forwards as though to follow him when Leonard pulls back. He still doesn't close his mouth. He hasn't been told to. Leonard wants to keep him that way until he starts to drool, but- "You don't know you're gorgeous, sweetheart? With that face, those eyes, that body?" 

If they'd still been in the bar, Leonard knows, Jim would have smirked and nodded and agreed with his sentiment, moved closer and urged him to find out just a little more about his body. But here, things run a little deeper, and he's a little more vulnerable, and Leonard itches to convince him. "You got a full length mirror, darling?"

"In the hall."

"Go get it."

For a moment, he thinks Jim will object. But in the end, with a thick, nervous swallow and a jerky nod of his head, he eases to his feet and goes to do just that. Leonard watches him go, because that body is a temple and that ass is a miracle, and he wants that image of Jim walking away seared into his brain for all eternity. Just playing on a loop in the corner of his vision, picture in picture. Boring meetings at work wouldn't seem nearly as bad if he could distract himself by staring at that instead.

He hears Jim grunt with effort, but no crashes or sounds of a struggle, casts his eye around for the best spot while he waits.

It's a pretty big mirror, actually, and he's a little distracted by the way the muscles in Jim's arms strain as he brings it into the room. Not to mention the way he obeys, following Leonard's directions until it's propped against the wall and Jim is kneeling on the bed, facing it with no little trepidation. Leonard suspects he has been dominated before by people who were determined to wring their own pleasure from him, but much less concerned with his. It's time to change that. He'll never see this man again but he can give him a night he'll never forget.

He kneels behind Jim, takes hold of his jaw to convince him to meet Leonard's eyes in the mirror, sees trepidation there but no outright terror, no true resistance. He presses a kiss behind Jim's ear, and it makes his eyelashes flutter, proves he does want something softer, too.

"I'm going to tell you what I see. And then I'm going to fuck you. And you're going to watch every moment of it, just like I do. Is that okay?"

He's taking a risk, he knows, by asking. Jim might not be able to say what he wants, even if he does. But Leonard would never forgive himself if he made this poor, damaged boy's issues even worse.

Except the tiny, guilty, "Yes," he receives is worth more than any risk, even if Jim can't quite meet his eyes while he says it. That's okay. It's Leonard's job to convince him that he's worth all of this, and more.

"Where's your lube, sweetheart?"

Jim waves an arm vaguely in the direction of the bedside table. He watches Leonard in the mirror as he searches, finds the mostly-full bottle and a couple of condoms, checks the expiry, just in case. They're closer to the date than he had expected, but he doesn't read too much into it. Jim had wanted to come back to Leonard's place, after all. Maybe he just doesn't spend a lot of time at home.

His mind is soon on other things. He kneels behind Jim again, wraps his arms around a slim waist, raises a hand to guide Jim's head back so it's resting on Leonard's shoulder. He's beautifully, perfectly vulnerable. Leonard cranes his neck a little, kisses him. They can't get anything like the depth they want, with the angle, but Leonard can grind his hard cock against the smooth skin of Jim's back, chase a little relief, while Jim has nothing. He whimpers and shifts, his fidgeting only sending delightful sparks of friction through Leonard's body. He has to be leaving sticky trails across Jim's skin, and it makes his possessive instincts flare even as he reaches down between them, finds his way, touches just lightly at the hot, secret furl of Jim's hole.

His fingers are still dry, but Jim whines and shifts closer anyway, trying to take more. He's not looking in the mirror, but his eyes are on Leonard's as best as he can without moving from the position he was placed in. He's so very good, and Leonard tells him so, murmurs it against his cheekbone with a brush of his lips, makes him shudder.

The crack of the lube bottle opening makes his eyes widen where they had been lidded before, hazy with need. Leonard smiles at him. "Look," he urges, too, bringing Jim's gaze back to the mirror. He doesn't need to break the eye contact when he reaches down, already sure of where he needs to be, sees the sweet, desperate crease in Jim's brow, the warm flush across his cheeks, the lip bitten to hold back a plea as Leonard presses his finger inside.

He's hot, so tight, and he's already bearing down, craving more. Leonard doesn't want to hurt him, carefully smooths lube over those silken, inner walls, watches Jim's expression for any sign of pain or discomfort when he tries with two fingers. He can't quite make it, despite Jim's efforts, nips at Jim's earlobe and smooths his other hand over Jim's stomach to feel the quiver of the muscles there, toned abdominals rippling. "You are gorgeous," he says, instead of pushing through the pain, delving inside with one finger again and just tugging at the resistance of those walls, providing just the hint of the stretch that's to follow. "So good. Doing what I tell you. Wanting more, trusting me to give it to you. And I will, sweetheart, just wait a little longer. Look at how well you're doing. How sweet, and needy, and desperate you look. I can't wait to find out how you feel when you're sinking down onto my cock, slow and easy."

He kisses the pale column of the throat before him, always gentle, Jim's head tipped back onto his shoulder as though he doesn't quite have the energy to hold himself upright. He's still got hazy eyes fixed on the mirror, though, watching Leonard. When his gaze travels, and he sees himself, he flushes that little bit deeper.

He gasps in surprise rather than pain when Leonard finally gets two fingers inside of him, whines when they're withdrawn, but Leonard is only applying more lube, getting him soft and wet inside. Saying it pulls the first fragment of a moan from Jim's throat, has him relax that ring of muscle just a little more, allows Leonard in up to his knuckles. He rubs them at that point of resistance a few times, coaxing it gradually more open, stimulating the nerve endings there until Jim is panting, his bottom lip bitten red and swollen. Still holding back, not saying the words that fight to escape.

"Let it all out, darlin'. No judgment here."

Jim's answering whine cracks halfway through, and he mouths, "Please," on an outward breath, just the barest whisper. He's staring right into the reflection of Leonard's eyes as he says it, and Leonard kisses his shoulder, watching right back, daring him to say more, keeping up the pressure of his fingers all the while.

"You're so hot inside, sweetheart," Leonard tells him, then smiles, "Hot outside, too. But inside, you're like a furnace, all warm, wet silk, gonna feel so good wrapped around me. Bet you clutch tight, too, don't you? Not wanting to let me go. You just want my cock, filling you up, stretching you out, grinding just right where you want it. And believe me, I know where that is."

The angle is a little awkward, but Leonard demonstrates anyway with a twist of his wrist that brings just the tips of his fingers against Jim's prostate, makes him whine and drive his hips back, seeking more. Leonard chuckles darkly in his ear. "That's it, darlin'. All you've got to do is take a little more and you can have it, just relax for me. Let me in."

Jim shudders and melts into him, heavy and unresisting. It’s a little harder to hold him up, but so much easier to delve inside of him, three fingers twisting against the lax resistance of muscle until he’s certain that Jim can take him without any pain blurring his pleasure. Half-lidded eyes watch his progress, fixed to that point where Leonard’s fingers disappear inside of Jim’s body

“You’re so good, baby. Trusting me. Letting me get you ready. It’s going to feel good, I promise, just lift up a little, that’s it-“

He removes his fingers, slicks his cock with the excess lube, guides it to that soft, silken opening and lets Jim’s inability to hold his own weight do the work of taking him inside. Leonard forgives him for the moment he looks away, just briefly, his eyes rolling back in his head and then slipping shut as he sinks, just like Leonard said, slowly and easily down onto Leonard's cock.

"Oh, God, daddy."

"Good boy," Leonard murmurs before Jim can even begin to feel self-conscious about his unthinking utterance, kissing his throat, sucking at his earlobe, his hands on Jim's hips, just holding him, feeling the solid, warm reality of his skin. When Jim stops trembling, when those beautiful darkened eyes flutter open to meet Leonard's, he's flushed, lips parted, his movements a little vague. He's perfect. His brow creases just a little when Leonard tells him so, but a gentle roll of his hips and Jim's face smooths out into unquestioning bliss. Leonard aims to keep him that way, and he thinks he has the skill to do it.

He loves this, being trusted with the pleasure of another, and he's going to earn every. Single. Moment.

It's not long before each movement of his hips has Jim's breath hitching. His fingers are twitching, like he doesn't know what to do with his hands, so Leonard guides one to his thigh and then the other to his chest, over his nipple.

"Show me how you like it, sweetheart," Leonard urges, and the answer is apparently hard. Jim pinches, and shudders all the way through, right down to the clutch of his muscles around Leonard's cock. He grinds back to meet Leonard's thrusts then, too, encouraging more, even uncoordinated as he is, and Leonard has to slow him, just a little, to keep control.

"I know, I know," he says, when Jim whines his objection, still watching them, doing as he's told, so sweetly. "But trust me. I'll make you feel good. Haven't I been doing that already?"

The hand that Jim had resting on his thigh is brought up, then, to rest roughly on Leonard's jaw, to slide up into his hair. The two of them make a pretty picture in the mirror, as Leonard noses into Jim's throat, taking in all he can, Jim's gorgeous body taut and straining, his cock hard and proud and leaking, bobbing gently with the motion of Leonard's hips. He's not sliding in and out so much as grinding against that one point inside of Jim, making him twitch and tremble with the sustained pressure, breath hitching helplessly. He clenches a fist in Leonard's hair, not really pulling, just holding. His nipple is pink and swollen where he's been abusing it, and Leonard takes hold of his hand to guide it to the other side of his chest, biting down at the junction of neck and shoulder when Jim shudders and groans at the new stimulation.

"You close, sweet thing?" Leonard murmurs in his ear even though he already knows the answer, just to hear the broken little mewl Jim makes in reply and allow it to feed his ego. He knows what he's doing, but he wants Jim to know that too, to wake up in the morning thinking about him and how thoroughly he's been taken apart.

"I won't let you go without, sweetheart. But I want you to try for me, want to see if you can come without my hand on your cock. Think you can do that for me?"

Jim's answering whimper sounds fairly uncertain, but Leonard rolls his hips again, lowers a hand to Jim's lower stomach to press down and bring his prostate within easier reach. Its' so close to being torture, being buried in that soft, wet heat, a constant tight pressure around the base of his cock broken only by the fluttering of Jim's muscles as he gives himself over to the pleasure, but Leonard is determined to hold out. He sets his teeth to Jim's throat to distract himself, not biting hard or long enough to leave marks, as much as he wants to. He licks at the slight redness that he leaves, that will be gone by the morning, goes a little harder and a little deeper into Jim's ass, one eye on their reflections as Jim continues to obey him, to watch everything Leonard is doing to him despite the tears clinging to his lashes, threatening to fall.

He's perfect. And he's so, so close, legs trembling, hole twitching, cock dripping steadily. Leonard watches a bead of fluid trickle down, wants to catch it on his tongue, notices the flush across Jim's chest and up his neck as he realises he's being so thoroughly examined.

"You're beautiful," Leonard murmurs to him, makes him shiver, kisses his jaw, hums at the scratch of Jim's fingernails to the back of his neck. Jim's stomach muscles undulate against his fingertips, and Leonard presses harder, brings Jim closer, has so much more to say. "You're perfect. So proud of you, baby. I know you're close. You just need a little more, don't you, until you can come from just bouncing on my cock, sweet thing. I know you love it, being fucked open and taken, and you look so good there I can hardly stand it."

Jim sobs. Tears drip down his cheeks and he's shattered open, cheeks flushed and lips bitten red. Leonard smiles, and if his cock twitches hard at his words, well, it's just the context, Jim's clear enjoyment that does it. "Come for daddy, darlin'."

And fuck, Jim actually does, and if he was gorgeous before, he is transcendent now, his whole body taut as he gasps for breath, as his cock pulses out thick ribbons of come that paint his chest and drip down onto his thighs. He clenches and squeezes and shudders around the base of Leonard's cock, whimpers and moans and writhes and he is so much more than Leonard could ever have imagined, but then he starts to recover, muscles going lax, his body heavy and uncooperative, and he breathes, sated and sweet, "Come in me, please. Want to feel you, filling me up."

What else can Leonard do, then, except wrap his arms around Jim's chest and hold him tight as he fucks into him hard and fast, making him gasp and mewl with the overstimulation for just a little while, just a few more long, driving thrusts before he growls, buries deep and comes, milked through it by the aftershocks still shuddering through Jim's body, the clenching of his sweet, abused hole. Jim moans at the sensation like he's the one being pleasured, shifts his hips to take more even though he has to be hurting, and Leonard pants against his shoulder, still holding him tightly, unwilling to let go, just yet.

"Thank you, daddy," Jim ventures, breathlessly, and Leonard disentangles them to press him down into the sheets and kiss him, hot and wet, holding him close until he's stopped trembling then bumping their noses affectionately.

"You're very welcome, sweetheart."

With a smile, Jim sprawls out on his back, then, and Leonard allows himself to look his fill for just a moment longer, brushing covetous fingers through the drying streaks of come across Jim's chest. It's late, and he needs to get home. "You need anything else before I go?"

"I'm good."

"So good," Leonard agrees, and Jim flushes beautifully. "Will you try and drink some water, maybe eat something before bed?"

That makes Jim roll his eyes, although he subsides when Leonard raises a hand to clench a fist in his hair, in warning. Then, he smiles and melts back into the sheets, breathlessly agreeing, "Yes, daddy."

"Good boy."

And Leonard leans down for a last, lingering kiss, and then that's it. He gets his things together and leaves, watched all the while by beautiful, lidded blue eyes. He goes home, and he gets into bed, and he remembers the feeling of that gorgeous body in his arms without letting himself get wistful about it. It's just sex, that's all.

He'll never even see Jim again.


	2. Chapter 2

"Executive Manager," Leonard mutters to himself as he stares at his reflection in his bathroom mirror. It's not quite sunk in yet, but he'll have to go in today and act like one. Act like he shouldn't be running the whole damn department with his skills and qualifications and company loyalty.

He browses on his phone as he eats his toast, checking some job ads. There's nothing in his field that looks any better than what he has. "Executive Manager," he mutters again, and takes a swig of his cooling coffee.

"What're you ranting about?" Jo stumbles in, crosses to the fridge, gets out some milk for her cereal. She's dressed in unicorn-themed shorts and a superhero-themed shirt. Her long hair is a tangled mess.

"They changed my job title at work. Trying to get used to it."

"What is it?"

"Executive Manager."

"Sounds like some meaningless corporate bullshit."

"It is. And don't say bullshit."

"Even when it is?"

Leonard sighs. "Even when it is."

"Can we still get pizza tonight?"

Leonard thinks he can still stretch to pizza. He nods. Jo beams at him, slumps into a chair and pours milk over processed sugar masquerading as food. They'll eat better at the weekend. Maybe he'll make lasagne. Jo doesn’t mind vegetables so much when they’re covered in cheese and sauce.

"You do your homework?"

"Yeah. Pavel helped me with my math. He's really smart."

"He's good?"

"Yeah. Why, are you gunna start getting laid more?"

Leonard will never get used to having a pre-teen daughter. He swears he didn't know half of what she does, at that age. "I never get laid. I lead a celibate existence broken only by church meetings and lengthy lectures on medical technology."

Jo shrugs. She's not quite as casual about it as she makes out, her cheeks kind of red, eyes on her cereal bowl. "I just want you to be happy, dad. It's been a long time since mom. Not like she's exactly-"

"Yes, thank you."

"Why do you think I didn't want to live there anymore?"

"I appreciate the thought."

"I don't wanna ruin your life, dad!"

"Jo." Leonard sets his coffee down, slides across to the seat beside her, reaches out to stroke her matted hair. She pouts sulkily but doesn't move away. "You have never done anything but make my life better. If I haven't been- socialising. It's my own damn fault. Never yours."

"Charlie at school says her mom says having kids ruins everything."

Leonard smiles, leans across to press a kiss to his wonderful, sweet daughter's temple. "Well, that's bullshit."

Jo snorts and shoves him away, but she gives him a watery smile before returning her attention to her cereal.

"Want me to drive you to school?"

"Dad. It's three blocks. Katie's gonna meet me, anyway."

"Alright. I have a new boss, today, but I'll try and finish on time. I'll text you when I'm coming home so you can order pizza?"

Jo lights up. She's never usually trusted to order. They end up with ice cream stuffed crusts or whatever overpriced gimmick the pizza place is dangling in front of gullible customers that week.

Leonard feels like he'll be kind of grateful for whatever unhealthy abomination she orders after the day he's likely to have.

-

"He's hot," is the first thing Chapel says to him as he walks in the door.

"Well, that changes everything. Where do I sign my unending allegiance to the hot, unqualified, trust fund douchebag responsible for my reduced capacity to keep a roof over my daughter's head?"

"Coffee's on your desk."

"Thanks." Leonard shoots her what passes for an apologetic grimace as he heads for his office and sweet ambrosia, takes a sip with a groan. Yes, it's his second of the day, but Chapel doesn't need to know that. He manages to steer clear of the pastries that Geoff brought in, even though he's already craving pizza. At least he doesn't feel hungover, stopped drinking pretty early on and was distracted by admittedly fantastic sex for the rest of the night. It should tide him over for a while, help him get his mind back on what's important.

He drifts into reliving that experience for a moment, the warm body against his, solid and real, how gorgeous Jim had been even to start with, the vivid unreality of him when he'd finally given in. 

"Good night last night?" Chapel asks with a smirk. She's still tapping away at her keyboard even as she looks over at him through the doorway, probably writing some gibberish email to Carol over in Defence Development.

"I went out for a few drinks and then had rampant kinky sex with a gorgeous man I'd just met, so- yes, actually."

The tapping stops. Leonard laughs as he strolls out in the direction of the meeting room where they hold their morning conference call. Her shocked expression, mouth agape, is priceless. Usually, Leonard is pretty uninformative about his admittedly rare nighttime activities, but he's in a mood that is either good or brazenly reckless. And it does feel pretty satisfying to take her by surprise.

-

"Morning, all," he greets his fellow department heads in the meeting room. He's regarded with the usual bland indifference by Spock and eyed suspiciously by Scotty.

"You're surprisingly chipper for someone who's been as humiliatingly demoted as we have." 

"What can I say, I'm embracing the opportunity."

"Save the enthusiasm for when the new boss gets here. I can't handle it."

Spock, who's been there longer than any of them and probably has far more right to complain, says nothing. Leonard elects not to ask, just exchanges a look with Scotty, who rolls his eyes.

Hikaru stumbles through the door with roughly thirty seconds to go until the meeting begins, falls into a seat and ineffectually dusts himself off.

"The hell happened to you?"

"Conference call with London ran late." 

"You still beat the boss here," Leonard comments, although he can hear voices approaching. It sounds like Alexander and Chris, their Regional Manager, and like they're talking at someone rather than with them. He slides Hikaru his notebook and pen, so he can look suitably busy rather than just harried while Leonard unlocks his tablet, receives a grateful smile in return. It's refreshing to think they might band together to face this new enemy, rather than-

"Fuck," Leonard says, but thankfully he's also spilled his coffee so nobody thinks anything of it beyond uncharacteristic clumsiness. Nobody bothers to get up to grab him some paper towels from the sideboard, though, all too busy staring at the new arrival, so he gives them all half-hearted glares before getting up himself, actually glad to put his back to the room for a moment.

He breathes steadily, forces himself to look as normal as possible, because his heart is threatening to pound out of his chest and his new boss was begging Leonard to come inside him last night, calling him daddy. Jesus fuck. Figures that Leonard couldn't just get laid in peace. Jo is going to laugh so hard when he tells her the very heavily censored version of this story.

He takes his seat again and elects not to say anything. What the hell can he possibly say? Jim is still listening politely to Chris, nodding along as though he actually understands what's being said about the inner workings of Hikaru's aerospace department. He's implausibly gorgeous in a charcoal suit and a yellow shirt, somehow perfectly presented and put together, nothing like the shivering, overstimulated puddle Leonard had left him in, just -he subtly checks his watch- ten hours previously.

Just for something to do with his hands in the absence of coffee, Leonard taps away at his tablet. He's actually sending Chapel an email about the best method for getting milk stains out of clothing ("no pun intended, Christine, I mean it"), so he doesn't entirely register that attention is moving in his direction until it's slightly too late.

Jim's eyes widen slightly when the realisation hits him, but he covers it quickly, holding out a hand for Leonard to shake with a pleasant, if slightly wooden smile. "Nice to meet you, Doctor."

"And you," is all Leonard allows himself to say, because he's sure someone has mentioned what the hell Jim's full name is and he doesn't want to let on that he's not been listening.

His tablet pings as he sits down, not with Chapel's reply but Scotty's helpfully emailed prompt, "Mr Kirk!"

Leonard nods to himself, as though contemplating the content of a much more complex message. Scotty aborts putting his head in his hands and hurriedly turns it into reaching for his coffee, smiling with not-at-all convincing innocence when Jim turns shrewd, observant eyes on him. Hikaru is shaking with suppressed laughter, safely behind Jim's back. Chris looks suspiciously at all of them, while Spock remains entirely impassive. Leonard isn't convinced he's blinked since Jim entered the room. 

"Before we start the call- " Jim begins, holding up a hand when Alexander attempts to work the phone system. "I just wanted to say I know this isn't ideal. I know that none of you are impressed with the situation. You probably resent me. Some trust fund douchebag turning up to con you all out of the promotions you deserve." It's delivered with the air of quoting someone else, and Chris' eyes widen at the phrasing before they narrow in Scotty's direction. It does sound like something he'd say. Leonard feels a little bad.

Turns out Jim had been listening to him last night, after all. Leonard's underestimated him all round. He feels like he's going to regret that.

"I can't change how unfair it is. But I'm going to do my best to make sure you're all recognised for your contributions to this company, and your hard work. I genuinely want to improve things around here, for everyone."

Jim is bright and charismatic. Even Scotty, who proclaims regularly that he's heard all of this before, doesn't dare roll his eyes in the face of his bold statements. Leonard's a little impressed that he should be so honest with them, and pretty pleased to see Alexander shifting nervously at Jim's words, coming so close to risking apportioning blame to the company. He never claimed not to be petty.

"So- nine for an outside line?" Jim prompts, then, and they continue with the usual boring, pointless exchange of updates and feedback from various regional offices that Leonard generally ignores as much as possible. He also attempts not to stare at Jim as much as possible, keeps his eyes on his tablet unless he's making his own contributions regarding his department, which he directs only in Jim's general direction. Or -he mentally corrects himself, because he's really going to have to make sure he doesn't slip up- Mr Kirk's general direction.

It had probably been too much to hope he'd have a Doctorate, like everybody else sitting at the table aside from Hikaru, who's only just finished his Master's.

"Thank you very much, everyone. I know this involves all of you taking time out of your day that you probably don't have, in order to explain things to your new, idiot boss, but I appreciate it. I'll schedule one-on-one meetings with you all over the next week or so to discuss how efficiency and productivity can best be improved in each of your departments. Have a good day, everyone." Jim ends the call after the general murmur of acknowledgment, before he can hear who hangs up first. He sighs, leans back in his chair, runs a hand through his hair, looks to Chris. "Right. Manufacturing, next?"

"That's right. We have a facility here in the city and a number of them abroad that operate on the same general procedure." Alexander tells him. This time, Scotty does roll his eyes. He's been out to the Indonesian facility and has been lamenting standards there ever since.

Leonard thinks he might be the only one who notices that Jim sees that.

"Do they operate to the same safety procedures?" Jim asks, and Scotty actually freezes in the process of gathering up his numerous tablets.

"They operate according to local standards."

"Well, we'll work on that. Is there a place to stop and get coffee on the way?"

"No, I don't believe-"

"Antonio's on Fifth is on the way." Leonard says, before he's even realised he was going to speak. Jim's eyes lock on his and fuck, he'd forgotten how ridiculously blue they are. "It's good. If you show your ID badge for the building they'll give you ten percent off, too."

Jim smiles gratefully, hopefully giving nothing else away to anyone else who might be watching. "Thank you, Doctor."

-

"Oh, fuck off," Leonard snaps, when he finds Scotty and Hikaru waiting for him around the corner, making kissing noises. "Don't you think he'll be even more unbearable decaffeinated?"

"Yeah, he's a real asshole," Hikaru replies, with a roll of his eyes. "That why you emptied your coffee all down yourself before he'd even walked in the door?"

Sometimes Leonard hates working with observant, capable people. "He looks like someone I knew once, that's all."

"How well did you know him?" 

Leonard returns Hikaru's leer with a glare as they all fall into step, heading in the general direction of their respective departments. "Well enough to pour coffee all down myself at the thought, apparently."

"I mean it can't exactly have been a chore, guy looks like that. Be pretty awkward if it had been him though, right?"

Scotty snorts his agreement. He's still drinking his own coffee, the bastard. "Real fucking awkward. Len might have just thrown his cup right out the window."

"Fuck you both," Leonard says, hopefully convincingly enough. He dabs at his pants ineffectually with a now-damp paper towel. "See you at lunch."

-

Leonard doesn't understand how he can be behind on his work when he only technically started his new job that morning, but there it is. He grabs a few minutes with Scotty and Hikaru at lunch at least, while he's microwaving leftovers, but has to slink back to his desk to eat them while he works. At least he had a spare pair of pants in his gym bag to wear while one of the interns was able to get his milk-stained ones dry-cleaned. Thank fuck for interns. If they'd had the initiative to also bring him a new coffee, he would have put them up for promotion.

Sadly, they hadn't. He's had to go through his day surviving only on what he made himself, at home. 

He's nearly finished, though, just about scraping through to leave slightly late but still on time to pick Jo up from volleyball practice. He can finish a couple of portfolios up at home after he's had pizza. God, he wants pizza.

It's that and his work occupying his mind when he hears the door to the outer office open, vaguely assuming that it's just someone leaving for the day until, actually within his field of vision, a takeout coffee cup is deposited on his desk.

He looks up from his screen in surprise.

"Thought it was only fair," Jim says with an apologetic smile. "May I sit?"

"You're my boss, pretty sure you can sit wherever you damn please." 

"That's not what you said last night."

Oh, great. So they're doing this now. Leonard's shoulders slump. "You may sit down."

"Thank you, Doctor."

Leonard wonders vaguely if Jim has a thing for titles in general, wonders less vaguely what he could do to find out. "I haven't told anyone, if that's what you're worried about."

"I'm not going to lie and say I wasn't worried about that. But that's not what I came here to say."

"Just came to congratulate me on my stellar work ethic?"

Jim just smiles knowingly. Leonard really, really wishes he could hate him, but he's charming and competent and still entirely too gorgeous for any of this to be fair.

"I actually have a proposition for you- a work-related proposition, I mean, so please don't report me to HR."

It's much easier to fight the urge to smile when Leonard thinks about the day he's just had. "Mr Kirk-" he begins and then feels a little bad when Jim literally flinches. "I need to pick my daughter up from school. I'm already late off and I don't get paid overtime. Thank you for the coffee. But please just say what it is you came here to say."

Something dulls in Jim's eyes -fuck, no, Mr Kirk's eyes- then, and yeah, Leonard does feel bad, but he also really doesn't have time for this.

"It's okay. I can wait. You're in for the early conference call on Friday, right? With Bangkok? Would it be alright if I stopped by after? Just to talk?"

Oh, great. Now Leonard's got to spend all week worrying about that. He should have just told Jo he was going to be ten minutes late. "Sure."

Jim smiles, nods, stands, goes to leave but Leonard can't let him go like that, and he's still fucking calling him Jim, damnit.

"I won't say anything." Leonard says, and Jim's answering smile is smaller but more genuine before he lets himself out with a wave.

Leonard lets his head drop onto his desk, and sighs. He is so fucked.

-

Leonard's eating pizza later -just the regular stuffed crust, thankfully, although Jo is dipping hers in overpriced ice cream she's already picked the cookie chunks out of- when his phone pings with an email from work.

It's a company-wide memo stating that any overtime that can be reliably billed to an existing client or project will be paid, with immediate effect.

Leonard has no idea what to think about that.

-

He makes the conference call in the morning with butterflies in his stomach. It’s too early to get coffee on his way in, and he’s half texting Jo to make sure she gets to school okay while he pretends to listen when Jim materialises in his doorway, somehow looking more gorgeous than ever in a navy pinstripe suit and a coffee in each hand. He knows Leonard’s order, proved that the previous time, too, and Leonard blames the early hour for his inability to suppress his smile. Jim sinks into the visitors’ chair, sips his own coffee and listens vaguely to the heavily accented chatter. It’s nearly over, and Leonard signs off with a promise to email three people he had been going to email anyway, makes a few notes for things he needs to do, and accepts the cup that’s passed in his direction.

“Sorry I was rude to you, before,” he says, before he can think better of it, and Jim looks so genuinely surprised that he actually feels worse.

“It’s alright. It’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about actually. I have no idea how everything works around here and I’m not an idiot, but- I could really do with some help from someone who knows the people like you do.”

Leonard snorts. “You’re coming to me for advice on social interaction? You must be desperate.”

“You know how things work. Like last time, you told me you don’t get overtime. I fixed it, didn’t I? I just need to be told what’s happening and I think someone like you will be honest with me.”

“I’m sorry- you want me to do what, exactly? Report to you?”

“I want you to work with me.”

“In addition to-“ Leonard gestures to his desk- “All of this?”

That makes Jim pause, lift his chin a little, as though he’s expecting resistance. “Instead of it. You’d suggest someone to take on all your work here. And you’d work directly under- with me. Assisting me.”

“I’m not a fucking PA, Jim.” It’s difficult for Leonard to contain his rising emotion, but he does his best to put into words the outrage he’s feeling rather than just dismissing the whole ridiculous idea outright.

“Why not? You’re intelligent, observant, organised. You’d be a good one.”

“That’s because I’m violently overqualified.”

“You’re violently a lot of things.”

“I am a Doctor-“

“And I can help you.” Jim’s natural presence is much more authoritative and imposing than he’s let on, so far, and his voice takes on a significant thrum that stops Leonard’s many and varied objections in their tracks. “Who the hell do you think is going to get to sit in on all the big meetings? Who’s going to get to know everyone on every board of all of our major partners? Whose face with they recognise, whose name will be on all the emails? I’m not just some trust fund kid. I know what I’m doing. But I’m new here. I need somebody to show me the ropes. And you need someone who’s willing to overlook the fact that you will not play the fucking game. And then we’re both gonna need a drink. Tonight. At seven.”

“You are shameless. You think we should get married, too?”

“Oh, fuck, you’re not pregnant, are you?”

“God, I wish I didn’t like you.” Leonard sighs. He pinches the bridge of his nose, takes a moment to just breathe and think because he feels like Jim might be making a convincing argument but that doesn’t seem at all right. He has a Doctorate in biomedical engineering and his place is not as a glorified secretary. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, necessarily. It’s just not for him.

But then again, he’s not a fucking executive manager, either. And he’s never going to get any further than he has so far simply by working hard and flying under the radar.

He’s not actually, seriously thinking about this, is he?

Not to mention it’s a terrible idea, with the brief but intimate history he and Jim have. Sooner or later someone is going to suspect something and start asking those questions, wondering why Leonard has been singled out even though Spock has more time with the company and Scotty is definitely smarter than he is.

Jim is giving him a shy, pleased sort of smile. “You like me?”

What the fuck has Leonard got to lose. “You’re paying for drinks.”

“And you’re going on a Starbucks run before the board meeting at eight. Chop chop.”

Jim already knows him well enough to be on his way out the door by the time he utters those last words, although he turns to beam and wink in the face of Leonard’s stoniest glare.

-

Chris looks at him like he’s lost his mind when Leonard walks through the door to the meeting room with a tray of coffees in hand.

“Morning Chris,” he says, because he’s decided to basically bluff his way through the whole thing and just make sure he’s never alone with anybody so that Jim has to fend off any and all questioning on the subject. “Morning, Jim.”

Except Jim appears to have had the same idea, barely glances up from his laptop except to accept his coffee with a distracted smile. “Thank you, Doctor. Did you send those emails to the Bangkok office?”

“I did. And I have the files you requested. I can talk you through the labelling system when you’re ready.”

“That sounds great. Have a seat. Janice, would you mind forwarding the minutes to Doctor McCoy when we’re done here?”

Janice nods, wide-eyed and staring. Leonard slides into the seat next to Jim and studiously looks busy. He has an email from Jim that is simply a laughing face emoji. This is going to go so terribly wrong. His imposter syndrome has never felt so justified. Chris is still watching them.

“Are we ready to begin, everyone?” Katrina, one of their long-standing board members, ignores all of it. Leonard has always liked her.

There are various murmurs of acquiescence. Leonard makes notes and pays attention to who’s speaking. He knows most of the people in the room by name but hasn’t spoken directly to any of them before. He’s just glad that nobody asks him any questions and that Jim feigns urgent administration matters elsewhere then all-but drags him from the room as soon as the professional discussion is over.

“Can we do the labelling system thing over breakfast?” Jim asks.

Maybe this won’t be so bad, after all.

-

Chapel’s email reads: “Did you get fired? Why am I doing your job??”

Leonard puts it off to deal with it later.

-

"This sucks," Jim says, over lunch. They're still working, sequestered in his office with the door closed to avoid the questioning gaze of every other person in the department, but they're picking at salads while they do it, sipping juice and coffee.

"They're just vegetables, Jim, they won't hurt you."

"That's not- well, that too, but mostly- our products are sorted exclusively by type and they shouldn't be. We create pumps and valves and siphons and all kinds of things, and yet we keep no records of what machinery our clients actually need any of it for. We could be recommending them a greater range of parts for the same units. It would improve our sales and save them money."

"It would mean a complete overhaul of our ordering system to include that information. And we’d have to consider data protection laws, especially for partners based in the European Union."

"Well, we're already overhauling management and manufacturing. What's the harm?"

"The harm? Jim, nobody has a clue what they're supposed to be doing. I've had emails from eleven people across four different departments saying they don't understand any of the memos I've sent today. We create any more confusion and it'll bankrupt us."

"I'm just trying to do the right thing, here. It'll work."

"People don't like change. They're demotivated from being demoted already. And it's all well and good saying it’s for everyone’s good and the company will make more money from all these changes when they're not seeing any of it."

Jim fumes silently for a while. Leonard responds to another few emails. _Yes, we genuinely want your feedback. No, we're not expecting any more cutbacks, although there might be some changes to procedure. Yes, Christine Chapel is now the primary contact for the Biomedical department. Yes, that is a woman's name. No, she's not just an assistant to the head of the department._

Leonard maybe fumes a little himself.

-

"So you think we should organise materials by function, or-"

"No. No shop talk. This is a separate thing, where we entirely forget that I'm your boss and we just have a regular conversation," Jim insists, as he sets bottles of beer down in front of them. They're in a bar that's popular enough to be busy, but not too busy, in the middle of the week. They've got a table in the corner and they can hear each other speak and Jim's paying for the drinks, though, so Leonard can't complain. Even if he has had to pay Pavel a few extra bucks to convince him to keep an eye on Jo for a few hours at short notice.

"A regular conversation," Leonard repeats, with what he intends to be a significant look but which Jim might just assume is his regular expression, because he just shrugs.

"Yep."

"Sure. So when people ask me if we're fucking, what do you want me to say?"

Jim pauses with his bottle lifted to his mouth, perhaps realising his error. Then he smirks. "I want you to lie. And say we're not."

-

“I have to get back,” Leonard gasps, as his back slams into the door, thankfully inside Jim’s apartment rather than outside it, in between rough biting kisses. He’s more relaxed by Jim's company than drunk, but it's enough to make him want more, to take the edge off his natural inclination to overthink.

“Shouldn’t take long,” Jim promises him, with far more confidence than the sentiment warrants, frankly, but Leonard’s too far gone to argue, finds himself hoping it’s true. He wants this and more, wants hours to savour Jim’s body beneath his, to drive him to the point of begging for Leonard to allow him release and then make him wait a little longer.

But he still has a life outside of this ludicrous fantasy, still has a daughter who is approaching the age at which she can be left at home alone but isn’t quite there yet. He worries about her, and he feels guilty for asking Pavel to keep an eye on her when he has his own studies and life to manage. Leonard is too old to be messing around like this, to be sneaking off with the man he now knows to be his boss when he’s supposed to be working. To have to push Jim away to stop him from biting visible marks into the skin of his throat.

Jim snickers, noses at Leonard’s cheek with surprising affection and kisses him briefly, softly, before sinking to his knees.

“Oh, good boy,” Leonard huffs, with conviction that surprises even himself, reaching out to pet Jim’s hair and smiling indulgently when he presses into the touch, like a cat. A gorgeous, dark-eyed cat who is about to very lovingly suck Leonard’s cock.

“May I?” Jim asks, setting hands on Leonard’s thighs, licking his lips as he stares at the growing bulge in Leonard’s pants.

It’s all very flattering, but-

Leonard clenches his fist in Jim’s hair, pulls him back a little when he would have leaned in. “May you, what?”

“May I- please?” But Jim is smiling, his eyes shining.

Leonard pulls him in, instead, lets Jim whimper softly as his cheek comes into contact with the clear shape of him, the evidence of Leonard’s enjoyment beneath the fabric of his pants. “What is it you call me, sweetheart? When you want something? When I’m doing you a favour like letting you choke yourself on my cock?”

It makes Jim shiver, lean more heavily against him, breath warm and damp against Leonard’s still-infuriatingly clothed cock. 

“Please,” he pants, but while Leonard is tempted, and impatient, he’s not about to let that slide.

“Oh, no, darlin’. You made a big mistake that first time if you didn’t want me to want that again. So- what is it you call me?"

Jim’s eyes are wide and pleading. He says nothing.

“Or tell me to stop.” Leonard reminds him, instead, and Jim makes a sweet little dejected whimper, noses at the hard shape of him, breathes in whatever scent he finds there.

When he speaks, it’s barely more than a whisper, his cheeks already flushed scarlet and they’ve barely even started. “Please, daddy?”

“Such a good boy for me,” Leonard pets his hair where he’d been pulling it, soothing and affectionate, scratches a little at Jim’s scalp, watches him struggle to keep his eyes open where they threaten to flutter shut. “Go ahead. Take what you want, baby.”

Hands steady, his lips curved upwards in the faintest smile, Jim reaches for him, still pushing his head into Leonard’s touch for as long as it takes him to unbuckle Leonard’s belt and open his pants just enough to pull out his cock. He looks, but doesn’t touch, waits and looks up in a way that he has to know drives Leonard crazy, makes his cock twitch with renewed want because he’s asking permission and Leonard wants to ruin him, completely and utterly.

“Careful, darlin’. Might think you’re making me wait on purpose. Just to tease me. And I didn’t tell you to do that, now, did I?”

Jim shakes his head. “No, daddy,” he says, not much louder but with a little more confidence than before, and he leans in to take the head of Leonard’s cock in his mouth, all soft, wet heat and just a little suction. He loves it, that much is clear, is indulging himself as much as he is Leonard in that moment.

Leonard thumbs at the hollow of his cheek, cups his jaw, receives a devoted stare in return, Jim just letting the slick circle of his lips slide back and forth over that sensitive ridge, tongue swirling, caressing. Leonard’s struck with an overwhelming urge to keep him, to never let him go, to stop anybody else from ever experiencing this. He’s always been a little possessive, and Jim appeals to all his worst instincts in the best possible ways.

They’ve both already proved that they can still effectively work together while continuing to do whatever this is, and Leonard can’t think of a single reason to stop. He puts a little more pressure in his touch, hooks his fingers around the curve of Jim’s jaw, slowly pushes his hips forwards without allowing him to retreat.

Jim shows no sign of wanting to. He adjusts a little to change the angle at which he takes Leonard’s cock, but doesn’t resist in any way. His eyes flutter shut briefly and his throat works when Leonard nudges at the edge of his gag reflex, but he breathes through it, gazes upwards once more, relaxed and trusting.

“You pull back if you need to, alright?”

With an expression of faint surprise -which is slightly disconcerting and makes Leonard itch to hunt down whoever has abused this gorgeous, submissive man- Jim nods, just a little.

“You keep your eyes on me. If you look away, or do more than blink, I will pull out. You understand?”

Jim’s brow creases as though he wants to object, but it smooths out with a single stern look from Leonard. Eyes intentionally wide, he nods again.

“Gonna take real good care of you, sweetheart,” Leonard tells him, low and warm, and pushes into the tight vice of his throat before he can object. Jim shifts with the instinctive urge to resist, breathing heavily through his nose while he still can, and when he’s inhaled, Leonard cuts off his air with a slow, deep thrust forward, down, inside of him.

Somehow, Jim’s eyes stay fixed on his even as they begin to water, even as his throat contracts and squeezes, as he shivers violently, visibly relaxing the rest of his body. His eyelashes are clumped together when he blinks, and he starts to tremble before a single tear drips down his cheek. He’s beautiful.

And he feels like nothing else, so vulnerably wrapped tight around Leonard’s cock, hot and wet. Entirely unresisting, just the involuntary tiny movements of his body as it objects to the lack of oxygen.

Leonard gets a hand in his hair and pulls him back when his gaze falters, thrusts a fraction deeper for one last instant and has to suck in a breath almost as desperately as Jim, his traitorous hips twitching with the urge to bury himself deep once more. He won’t hurt Jim, won’t be like that, pets his face and smooths back his hair as they both catch their breath.

“You’re so good, baby.” Leonard pants, and Jim preens with glassy eyes, mindlessly leaning in to his touch, a little deeper in his headspace a little faster than Leonard had expected. “Taking me so well. Not gunna take me long to get off like this, to come down your throat. You ready to go again?“

Jim nods, is leaning in already, mouth open, lips pink and wet and swollen, should probably be chastised for not answering properly but his enthusiasm is clear and his throat has to be suffering enough already, so Leonard lets it go. Just this time.

“Oh my God,” he groans emphatically instead, because Jim immediately takes him right down, cuts off his own soft little moan with a choking sound and the briefly tighter clutch of his throat around Leonard’s cock. He settles there, eyes desperately on Leonard’s, watching him, faltering only slightly when Leonard experimentally moves his hips, sliding in and out just a little, so gently his whole body shakes with the effort of holding back.

“Please,” Jim gasps when Leonard pulls out again, panting and leaning in, cheeks wet with tears, voice hoarse from the abuse he’s suffered already. “Please, daddy, fuck my throat, I want it so bad.”

He’s so utterly perfect. “You pull back if you need to. Promise me.”

“I promise. Daddy, please.” Jim speaks with his lips just brushing the head of Leonard’s cock, with a desperate plea in his eyes. He touches just the tip of his tongue to the glans, lapping at skin that's already wet and shiny with his spit, that's already slick enough to slide easily into his mouth. Leonard gets a hand in his hair again, gives him a warning look that's returned with a warm, slightly glassy-eyed smile, and pushes in. An easy rhythm and long, controlled thrusts where Leonard's cock almost leaves that sweet, wet warmth give Jim space to breathe, to have enough control that he's leaning in each time, taking it deeper.

It's dirtily, blissfully good, hot and tight and all the best adjectives for a hole for Leonard to sink into. Jim's very presence winds him up, has been all day, and this appeals to deep, dark parts of his psyche, so long repressed and hidden that Leonard is coming in jerky pulses down Jim's throat before either of them really has time to render themselves breathless. Jim groans emphatically in the moment before he takes Leonard deep again, swallows what he can, the contractions of his throat milking every last drop before he lets Leonard's oversensitive cock soften on his tongue, ever-so gentle.

He's trembling, his pants tight across the clear bulge there, his eyes wide and wet and pleading. He has to be so close, but he doesn't touch himself, has to know that even though Leonard hasn't said as much, he doesn't want that.

"Tell me what you want, baby," Leonard murmurs, stroking his jaw, letting his fingers graze the lovely, abused throat that's taken him so well. 

It's immediately clear that Jim can't bring himself to respond. His throat works but no words come out, and Leonard doesn't intend to punish him for his insecurities but he doesn't want to encourage his silence, either. He touches Jim's chin, reinforces that eye contact, says with just as much indulgent affection but a little more command, "Tell daddy what you want."

Jim nearly sobs, but even if all he wants is for Leonard to tell him what to do, he still needs to hear it.

"Whatever you can tell me, darlin'. That's it. Give me something."

"I-" Jim stutters, swallowing hard, blinking once-more wet eyes, shining and impossibly blue. "Touch me? Please?"

Leonard sinks to his knees to kiss him, hot and wet and slow, tasting the bitterness of his own come, works at Jim's belt as he does, smiles at the involuntary twitches towards him. "You're gorgeous, sweetheart. You're doing so well."

Jim's response, beyond opening up for him and melting into his arms, is a soft whine of denial.

"I'll keep saying it 'til you believe me," Leonard murmurs against his lips, the kindest of threats, feels wetness and tastes salt and never wants to stop, can't help but smile, wraps an arm around Jim to hold him close as he dips his other hand into the front of Jim's pants and squeezes the hot, wet flesh he finds there. It makes Jim shudder against him, pushing his cock into Leonard's grip, so hard he has to be aching with it but with no complaints beyond the tiny little whimpers of his wordless pleas. He wants to come, is so close just from Leonard's words and from having his throat fucked. 

Leonard's assaulted by sensory memories at the realisation, recalls the sight of Jim's gorgeous, lithe body reflected in the mirror, the way he'd writhed on Leonard's cock, so desperate and close and yet obedient, doing whatever Leonard demanded of him and loving every moment. He's still doing it now. 

"You're so fucking good," Leonard breathes into his mouth, then dips to bite at his throat, to lathe the damp, salty skin with his tongue. He remembers how sensitive Jim's nipples were, how much he loved having them abused, doesn't have the time or the free hands to free Jim from the necessary clothing so just urges him to lean back with his body and lowers his mouth to graze his teeth against one of those sweet, hard peaks through his shirt. It makes Jim stiffen, but Leonard's got him, is still holding him exactly where he wants him and he sucks until the fabric is damp and clinging then bites down hard.

Jim wails, his cock pulsing in Leonard's hand, coating them both liberally as he comes with a series of shuddering, shaky moans. Leonard holds him, coaxes him through it, laps apologetically at the sensitive spot he's let slip from between his teeth and then claims his unresisting mouth in another kiss.

It's not pretty, but it is soft and genuine, Jim still panting out tiny little moans and twitching with the aftershocks, the slide of Leonard's hand over his cock eased by his come, a thought that makes Leonard shiver and growl possessively. God, he wishes he could spend the whole night, wake Jim up from sleep to ease him open and sink into him again, remind him who he belongs to, know he's spending the next day with traces of Leonard still lingering on and inside him.

Damn, he's in way too deep. Jim settles in his arms, slumping against him, still breathing heavily against his throat. Leonard wipes his hand on Jim's shirt, figuring it's already a lost cause and he's not the one who has to now get home and convince the world's smartest babysitter that he was working late rather than out getting laid. It's unlikely it will go well, but Leonard has other concerns, first.

"Come on, sweetheart, let's get you to bed."

And Jim groans, but he does his best to stand on shaky legs, leaning on Leonard but not relying on him. The couch is closer than the bed, and he heads towards it, and with a glance at the clock Leonard lets him, easing him down onto the cushions and drinking in the sight of him as he lays back, chest still heaving, only mostly tucked into his clothes, his shirt damp with a number of fluids. Thoroughly debauched, and all because of Leonard, Jim stares back with lidded eyes and a small smile on his face. He looks satisfied.

Leonard should not feel a thrill at being the one to put that look on his face. He gets the impression Jim is not a man easily satisfied, and to even see him bask feels like a considerable honour.

"I'll be alright, you know," Jim's voice is a low murmur, with just an edge of chastisement. "I don't need you to take care of me. It's just a game."

"Well, consider this part of the game, for me. It's no trouble, is it? To let me get you something to eat and drink?"

Jim wrinkles his nose like he's considering how best to argue, seems to realise he can't and rolls his eyes, then nods. "There's leftover pizza and juice in the fridge. Help yourself."

Leonard does, refastens and straightens his own clothing while he waits for the microwave to bing. Jim finds a little more energy, the longer they sit and share a couple slices, one glass of juice between them, that they pass back and forth. It's intimate, and not just because Leonard keeps a hand on Jim's knee throughout, sits so close they're touching all down one side.

"I thought you were just doing this for me." Jim confesses. He's only picking at his food.

"I thought I was, too, at first."

"You don't seem like you're new to this."

"I had to study a lot of medicine to get my doctorate. I know what adrenaline does to the human body, and what it needs after a rush, like-"

"Like the one you just gave me?"

"Like that, yeah," Leonard agrees, cannot for the life of him resist tearing off a bite-sized piece of his pizza slice and offering it up, raising it to Jim's lips and receiving a surprised expression but a gratifying lack of resistance as he eats. When he finishes chewing, and swallows, he gives Leonard a hopeful look, accepts another bite, licks Leonard's fingers clean of tomato sauce.

"This isn't so bad," he agrees, about five mouthfuls in, when he's graduated to sucking the grease from Leonard's skin with teasing lathes and swirls of his tongue.

"Well that's why I do it, in the hopes of such rousing endorsement."

Jim laughs, softly, but maybe more genuinely than Leonard has ever seen, tilts his head down so he can look up at Leonard through his lashes. "Thank you, daddy."

It shouldn't make Leonard's cock twitch hopefully. It really, really does. "You're welcome, baby," he says, and leans in for a kiss that has Jim suckling on his tongue, twining his arms around Leonard's neck, drawing him in so Leonard's weight is pressing him back into the cushions. 

It's nearly impossible for Leonard to tear himself away, but somehow he manages it, breathing, "I have to get home," against the skin of Jim's throat and making him shiver.

Jim pouts, nods sulkily, drags Leonard up to meet his eyes again and says, "Just one more kiss, daddy? Please?"

"Oh, you are gunna be the death of me."


	3. Chapter 3

"Oh my God, Dad!" Jo screams at him when he walks through the door maybe an hour later than he’d planned.

"Bible class ran late. And you should be in bed, why are you still up?"

“Why are you a dirty liar?”

“I asked first.”

“Pavel said as long as I didn’t have the TV on and I wasn’t on my phone I could wait up for you.”

Leonard squints at her. She is curled up on the couch under a blanket, reading an actual book. And it’s not that late, and it means she’s not absorbing all that blue light nonsense right before bed, so he can’t help but approve of the plan.

Begrudgingly, he says, “I met someone.”

Jo squeals so loudly Leonard fears for the response of their neighbours.

Pavel looks in from the kitchen and smiles when he sees him. “Welcome back, Doctor. Did you have a good evening?”

“Was it a date?” Jo interrupts before Leonard can answer him, and he has to consider his answer for a moment. Technically, they did go for drinks first.

He’s paused for too long; Jo laughs and makes retching noises. “Oh my God, Dad, you’re so gross.”

“It was just a work drink.”

That makes Jo crack up laughing.

Leonard sighs. “Thank you for being here, Pavel. You can go now, if you like.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

Jo’s still cackling.

Leonard walks Pavel out, for lack of anything better to do, counts the right amount of cash out of his wallet and hands it over. “I hope she treats you with more respect than she does me.”

“She does. But then, I generally do not walk through the door with bite marks on my neck.” Pavel smiles.

“Shit!” Leonard leans over enough to catch sight of his own reflection in the hall mirror, grimaces at what he sees. It’s not bad, but there are a few red marks that have yet to fade. He really hopes they’ll be gone by the morning. He’s going to kill Jim.

“Although I feel like she may not have believed you about bible class, regardless.”

“Yeah, I was probably overcompensating.”

Pavel’s smile gets a little softer. It’s easy to forget, sometimes, that he’s only five years older than Jo. He’s probably still too young to really be having this conversation. “You did have a good evening, though?”

“I did, thank you.”

“If you need me to put in some more hours, just let me know. It is quieter here than at my parents’ house. I get more work done.”

“Thanks. Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I am happy to help. Goodnight, Doctor.”

“You’re alright getting home?”

“I will manage.”

Leonard watches him go, sighs, leans his hand against the wall and rests his face against his arm for a moment, mentally preparing for the conversation he’s about to have. He’s got to tread that fine line between being honest with his daughter and not scarring her for life. It’s not quite terrifying enough to make him regret what he’s done, though, which he can’t help but view as a good sign. Despite everything, his entire world being turned upside down and his usual resistance to change, he really likes Jim.

“Alright. Three questions and then bed,” he sets up straight away, on his return to the living room, and Jo sits up, far more enthusiastic than he’s seen her about anything he's had to say in a long time.

“Are they hot?”

“Yes.”

“Good kisser?”

Leonard groans, grimaces. “Yes.”

“Are you gonna see them again?”

That one takes a moment’s thought, because Leonard will see him again, whether or not he wants to, but whether they’ll have another evening like that one is actually technically up for debate. He settles for, “Yeah. I hope so.”

“Gross. Night, dad.” Jo stands, moves as though she’s going to hug him but then seems to think better of it and just heads off to her bedroom with a wave.

Leonard is suddenly in desperate need of a shower.

His phone beeps from the bedroom while he’s under the spray, but he figures it’s Pavel mentioning something he’s forgotten and ignores it until he steps out, is towelling off his hair when he picks it up and nearly drops it again when he sees it’s Jim who’s sent him something.

_“You get back okay?”_ the message reads, and it’s so surprisingly domestic that Leonard just stares at it for a while with no idea how to respond.

_“Yeah, thanks. I had a good time. You alright?”_

_“I’m great. Can we agree to text or IM if it’s personal and email if it’s work-related? Just to keep the two sides separate?”_

It’s actually a pretty good idea. As much as they’ve been managing to compartmentalise so far, they’ll soon be spending a lot more time together, hopefully in both contexts. Leonard texts back, _“Sure.”_

The response is initially a single word, _“Great,”_ that makes him smile even in its brevity, although it’s closely followed by a photo, a selfie of Jim lounged in bed, sheets framing him artfully, just a hint at the edge of the frame of his hand wrapped around his hard cock, a little pearly fluid leaking onto his fingers. The caption reads, _“Miss you already.”_

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Leonard says, out loud. Jo’s bedroom’s down the hall, and she should be asleep, so at least she doesn’t seem to hear.

He feels like he should shut the whole thing down before it starts, but Jim looks so damn good, just a little flushed, the slightest hint of a coy smile, those ridiculous eyes. He could have anyone, could be doing anything, could go online and find whatever he wants in order to get himself off, whether it’s a video or another person to come over. But he’s messaging Leonard. And despite everything Leonard’s rational brain is telling him -he’s not that sort of guy; he’s never done this before; this will be more awkward and embarrassing than sexy- the attention makes him feel warm inside, gives him a rush he hasn’t felt in years.

And he might not have that particular trait, that lack of inhibition or that natural exhibitionism that lets him pose for and send photos that will remain forever somewhere in the aether of the Internet, but there is something he wants.

He ignores the messaging app they’re using, brings up Jim’s number and hits call.

“Is this better or worse than a photo?” Jim asks him breathlessly, rhetorically, laughing a little. He sounds wonderfully wrecked, but from the sound of a sweet, desperate little whimper, he’s not finished yet. Frankly, before that moment Leonard had no idea how he could have been ready to go again, but those sounds, that voice, the knowledge that Jim is thinking of him, it all makes him feel like he might be up for it, too.

“I’m not sitting here taking thirty different photos at awkward angles on a shitty camera, sorting through them, considering which one has the best damn lighting so you can be finished before I even get started.”

Jim laughs again, but Leonard’s not done talking.

“I’m calling you so that you can decide whether you think it’s worth doing exactly what I tell you, for a reward at the end. Whether you want to come when I tell you, or not at all. Because as much as I want to see what you’re doing, with that gorgeous body of yours, and that pretty face, I want to hear you tell me even more.”

Jim lets out a shuddery breath that’s distorted somewhat by the air rushing past the microphone. As much as Leonard loves to see how Jim looks in those moments, it’s still far more real and present than any damn photo, and his skin tingles with the force of all that attention, focused on him.

“What do you- wanna hear? What should I do?”

“You gunna do what I tell you, sweetheart?” Leonard asks, his voice low for the sake of keeping the volume down and gravelly because how could it not be, listening to this.

“Mm. Whatever you want, daddy.”

Oh, Leonard loves that far more than he should. “Then take your hand off your cock, lay flat on your back, and breathe.”

Jim’s little whine of frustration makes him smile, but after a few moments the rhythm he’s hearing changes from a regular, slow movement to deep, calming breaths. Leonard wants to touch him so badly he aches with it, wants to press his lips to that heaving chest and wrap his hands around slim hips, but this is heady, too, the knowledge that Jim does as he’s told, even at a distance. He settles for laying back on his own bed, still holding the phone to his ear, tossing the towel aside so he can just run his fingers over his own rapidly hardening length in time with those soft breaths.

“Tell me what you look like, baby. Let me catch up,” he urges, although his imagination is doing the majority of the work for him, envisioning Jim spread out in the same way, waiting for his words.

“I-“ Jim falters, but another deep breath and he manages, a little hesitantly, still breathy but not as desperate as before, “I’m naked. Fresh out the shower. Still warm. Just- on my back in bed, hands at my sides. I’m so fucking hard. Started in the shower, when I was cleaning myself off, thinking about how I wished it was your hands on me. You’ve got such nice hands, daddy. Wish you were touching me now, not just telling me where to move but making me do it.”

“I’ll do plenty of that too, sweetheart, but for now, I want you to prove you can listen. Nothing too difficult. Just my voice, and if you do what I tell you, I’ll make sure you get to come.”

“Daddy, please, don’t make me wait-“

“Shh, baby. Trust me.”

Without being able to resort to his pleading eyes and pout, Jim whines again, long and low. He’ll get the hang of his words soon enough, Leonard knows, but until then he’s more than happy enough to listen to those noises. There is something he wants, though, just the thought making his cock twitch in his hand. He's so far gone for this man, it's all-consuming.

"Roll over. I want you on your knees, and your elbows, with that perfect ass in the air. You do that for me?”

Jim’s response is only a vague sound of agreement until Leonard clears his throat, when he manages, “Oh- yes, daddy.”

“Have you done it? I can’t see you, baby, I need you to talk to me. Tell me how you look, how you feel. You in that same bed where I fucked you the other night?”

“Yeah, daddy. Can’t stop thinking about it. You fit inside me so good.”

Leonard smiles. “Yeah, I do. I remember how hot you were inside, how tight you got around me when you came without a touch to your cock. God, you’re so gorgeous.” He’s wrapping his hand around the length of his own cock now, stroking without applying too much pressure yet, just feeling the heat and weight of it and imagining Jim, spread out and waiting for him, for just the sound of his voice. Leonard’s not sure exactly how much of the noise carries through the phone, but Jim whines pitifully as his breathing speeds up. “Tell me, baby. How do you feel?”

"Open. Exposed. Hot. Like you're right here, watching me, seeing me bent over for you. Please, please can I touch myself?"

"Nearly there, darlin', you're being so good for me, you're doing so well. But before you do, I want an apology for those bite marks you left on my neck earlier."

Jim groans at that. "I didn't mean to."

"Now that doesn't sound like an apology to me. It doesn't even sound like the truth. Try again."

At the sound of a frustrated sob, Leonard reaches out, fumbles in the drawer of his side table for lube. The token resistance should not get him going nearly as much as he does, but Jim's stubbornness, his ability to hold out warring with his willingness to obey, it just ignites something deep inside of him. He has to be breathing heavily down the phone, the slick sound of his fist pumping his cock sounding loud in his ears and hopefully making it to Jim's, too.

“It’s just three simple words. Then you can come, baby. You can wrap those lovely fingers around that pretty little cock of yours, and stroke. Don’t you want that, sweetheart?”

“I’m- oh, daddy, please. I- just wanted to mark you, I’m sorry!”

He sounds sincere, shrill and desperate, and Leonard takes pity on him.

“There’s my good boy. Touch yourself, go on. Let me hear you. And next time I’ve got you all to myself, I’ll make sure you leave some lasting marks somewhere, alright? Maybe not for everyone to see, not yet, but just for us. I’ll know you’ve had your mouth on my thighs, your nails down my back.”

Jim moans, breathlessly, brokenly. “Wish you were here, daddy, I feel so empty.”

“I’ll fill you up real soon, darlin’. Buy you something for you to play with when I’m not around, something to keep you wet and open for me.”

Leonard’s saying it without thinking too much, realising too late that he has a few suppressed urges that he probably needs to contemplate in greater detail when he doesn’t have a gorgeous, aroused young man hanging on his every word. He’s enjoying this, is harder than he can remember being in years, every little hitching breath Jim takes ratcheting his pleasure higher, making his heart pound and his skin heat as he strokes, thinking about Jim bent over, his hole pliant and slick, just waiting for him. That gorgeous body, all his. He has a few marks he’d like to leave as well, on that lovely, unmarred expanse of skin.

“I’m so close, daddy, may I-“

It’s nearly enough to make him come himself, the thought of Jim asking his permission, waiting for his command. He holds out just a few moments, until Jim keens desperately, genuinely set on obeying him.

“If I told you to stop, now, you would, wouldn’t you?” Leonard has to know, is teetering on that edge himself, just needs to hear-

“Yes, daddy, oh please don’t, please.”

“Tell me you’ve been good, and you deserve to come.”

Jim lets out a tiny, wrecked little scream, and he’s so far gone from having to hold himself back that he does it, can’t think enough to resist, rendered senseless by his desire for Leonard, his need to please, “I’ve been good, daddy, I have, I’ve waited. I deserve to come, I’ve earned it, please.”

“Go on, baby. Come for daddy.”

There’s a sob, some overwhelmed little sounds as Jim does, so sweet and utterly drenched in relief and pleasure that Leonard follows him with a heartfelt groan, his climax feeling like it’s torn from him in a long, powerful wave, dragged out by the knowledge that Jim is doing the same.

Eventually he sags into the bed, exhausted, warm and relaxed, just listens, catches his breath for a few moments.

"Fuck," he hears Jim pant, his own laboured breathing gradually slowing, accompanied by the rustling of bedding that has to be him collapsing onto the sheets. "Why is it always so fucking intense?"

He sounds overwhelmed as well as sated, satisfied, and Leonard immediately feels a frisson of doubt, wonders whether they should be playing these games when Jim has nobody to ease him out of his headspace afterwards. "You okay?" he asks. He's feeling a little fragile himself, missing having the warmth of another body next to him afterwards, wishing he could draw Jim into his arms and sleep there like that, has never been good at anything resembling casual sex and this barely meets that criteria. They're both in far too deep.

"I'm okay," Jim's smiling, though, and as much as Leonard wants to be trailing kisses down his spine, it's a relief to hear that. "That was exactly what I needed. Please don't tell me to eat something."

It makes Leonard smile, too, and he settles for reminding him, "Just take care of yourself, please."

"And you?"

"You took care of me pretty good, too."

Jim laughs, breathlessly. "I wasn't totally listening, though, so you'll have to let me do it again sometime."

"Whatever you want, darlin'."

There's a brief silence, then, as Leonard contemplates just how sincerely he means it, and Jim swallows so thickly he can hear it down the phone.

"Thanks," Jim says, eventually, and then, "I know you- have your life and I kind of interrupted-"

"Hey, none of that." Leonard has to cut him off, can't let that go on for a second more. "I won't always be able to talk but whenever I can, I promise I'm all yours."

Is it too much? It seems like it's too much, and yet the words come so naturally.

And when Jim says, "Thanks," again, he sounds a lot more settled. Cautiously pleased, even. Kind of sleepy. 

Leonard's unable to keep the affection from his tone when he says, "Goodnight, baby."

"Night, daddy."

Jim ends the call, and for a while Leonard just lays there, unmoving, still holding his phone, letting the warmth in Jim's voice suffuse him.

He hauls himself up to at least clean up and put on pants before he falls asleep. There's no need to tempt fate when Jo might easily need something in the night.

-

"You want to what?" Jim asks, too loudly, in the board meeting the following Monday. Sat next to him, Leonard is wondering the same thing, but even Jim, as CEO, doesn't really have the necessary clout to object. Leonard's not going to confront this head on but as he skims through the figures presented by the accounts department, he's already jotting down notes for what they can do in the background. It's something he and Jim have already spoken about.

"I think you heard me the first time." Winona seems unphased by the interruption though, as well she might. She's been on the board since the company was founded, almost has a controlling stake on her own, is unlikely to have her opinion swayed by someone who's been there less than a week. It's impossible that Jim doesn't know that, and yet he forges on.

"Moving our manufacturing abroad will leave six thousand people out of work."

As Jim argues, Leonard glances around at the other board members. None of them seem particularly surprised by the suggestion, although they also look unimpressed by Jim's emotional response. As well they might; there are a variety of other measures they could take to cut costs, and they all involve board members sacrificing some of their personal benefits.

"It will also improve our profit margins." Winona says, calmly. Jim's out of his seat and gesticulating but she hasn't even sat up straight. "With overheads continuously increasing, our current model is unsustainable."

By overheads, she means living wages and safety standards. Leonard bites his tongue to keep from saying anything. As much power as Jim gives him, informally, in this environment he's just an assistant. His effectiveness relies on his being underestimated. His blood boils.

It sounds like Jim isn't doing much better. "Not the way I'm planning to do things."

"And while your changes are implemented, we'll go bankrupt. You have no idea how companies are run."

It seems uncomfortably pointed, and there are a few frowns around the table.

Jim throws up his hands. "Then what the hell am I doing here? Or did you think I'd be just another vote for your plan? We can cut costs elsewhere. We've only just been given this year's accounts but we're going through them now and we've identified a number of areas-"

"There's nowhere else we could make such a significant saving."

"Last year we spent twice that on business class flights. With more teleconferencing and-"

"And what- flying economy?" Winona scoffs. There are a number of nods and murmurs of agreement around the table, even though Leonard thinks he's travelled more for this job than the rest of them combined. Most of these people can afford to fly first class regularly, anyway.

"Even if it means paying for an additional night of accommodation to recover from the long journey, it's still cheaper."

"We can't spare our senior engineers for that long."

Now that, Leonard cannot let stand. "There are no senior engineers on our payroll," he points out, without needing to add the _"any more"_ that he feels is heavily implied by his tone.

"Not now, Doctor." Jim doesn't even glance at him.

Leonard glares at his back, instead. "Just seeking clarity, Mr Kirk. With voluntary overtime over the weekends at double pay we can still significantly reduce spending while also maintaining the presence of- Executive Managers during the week. Provided they have access to suitable equipment for teleconferencing and email."

"And you don't have to spare any of your engineers. I'll do it." Jim pipes up, too, which was not part of the plan, but he's still not turning around for Leonard to signal any of that to him.

"You'll fly economy." Winona scoffs.

"To keep jobs in this country? Yes, I will."

"And I suppose you'll be going with him?" Winona looks to Leonard, then, and finally so does Jim, just in time to see him freeze, utterly, under the unexpected line of questioning. He can't. Jim has to know that. There is nothing he can possibly say, and so he says nothing.

-

"What the hell, Bones?" Jim demands, the moment they step into his office, and if he wants an argument he's damn well going to get one.

"Don't you act like this is some kind of unwelcome surprise. You sprung that on me!"

"I needed you to back me up!"

"I have a daughter! I can't just go gallivanting off to other countries at a moment's notice! Do you have any idea how little evidence her mother needs to apply for custody?"

"I thought- wait, how old is she?"

"Twelve."

"Is that not old enough?"

"No!"

"Oh, I had bad parents." Jim grimaces with the realisation, and suddenly any objections Leonard had been summoning up just dissolve.

"Fuck," he says, and runs a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry. Jo's been part of my life for so long and the only people I speak to outside of work are her friends' parents, so I forget people don't know this stuff."

"Yeah, I don't know any kids." Jim shrugs. The worst part of it all is that he's not even mad, like he expects this kind of criticism as his due, as though any of it's his fault when Leonard's being a complete ass.

Well, about part of it, anyway. "You still should have warned me you were going to say that."

"I don't exactly plan these things, Bones, they just come out. I needed to say something! Winona would have been all over me if I hadn't come up with some sort of solution, and she'll be convincing the other board members as we speak. We need a plan. A real one."

"These things take time," Leonard attempts to say, soothingly, before he realises. "And what the fuck are you calling me?"

"It's what I was internally calling you in that bar while you raved on about your demotion and your new boss. You said something about- smart manufacturing in calcium phosphate?"

"And hyperelastic materials. For bone implants. You were listening to that?"

"I guess." Jim shrugs, as though people keep up with Leonard's biomedical engineering jargon regularly and apparently without any effort at all. "You up for working through lunch? Maybe drinks after work?"

"I can't do tonight. How about Tuesday? Jo should be back from a hockey tournament about nine. You could come over before that." Leonard manages to suggest it calmly enough but feels a familiar stirring in his groin as Jim's eyes fall on him with thinly veiled hunger. 

"I could, huh?"

"Sure. I'll make dinner."

"I'll bring dessert." Jim gives him a wink and smile, and Leonard rolls his eyes in return, and the moment is broken. "Can you get us some food? I need to think."

"Alright." Leonard nods, and he goes, and he tries not to think too hard about the overwhelming urge he feels to press a kiss to the top of Jim's stupid, genius head as he leaves.

-

"Wow, I thought you were joking about dessert," Leonard says when Jim arrives, dressed down in a tee and jeans and carrying a cheesecake.

"Well, if we're going to eat after, I thought I might as well make it something good."

"After what?" Leonard rumbles, dangerously, but since he's pressed against Jim's back, his arms around his waist, kissing his neck, the impact is probably reduced somewhat.

Jim twists in his arms to kiss him properly, to murmur against his lips, "After whatever you want to do to me, daddy."

-

Jim looks just as gorgeous as he ever has, kneeling naked on the floor of Leonard's living room, next to the couch, at Leonard's feet, accepting bites of intentionally chosen finger food with delicate nips of his teeth and laps of his tongue. It seems to relax him, too, like nothing has all day, the tension fading from his body, his tone softening. He leans into every one of Leonard's touches, rests his forehead on Leonard's knee when he reaches for more food, and he's just starting to shiver when Leonard sets the plate aside, draws Jim into his arms for a long, steamy make-out session. He hasn't done this since he was a teenager, but it's lovely, all the pressure and urgency exchanged for sweet, slowly rising arousal measured in the pitch of Jim's whimpers and the trails of pre-come he leaves on Leonard's stomach with the apparently involuntary grinding motions of his hips.

Leonard's still wearing his pants, his shirt unbuttoned to feel the hot hardness dragging across his belly, but all Jim can do is rock helplessly against the clothed bulge of Leonard's cock pressing between his ass cheeks. It aches, but in a satisfying, grateful sort of way, lets him focus more on Jim's pleasure than the chasing of his own release, allows him to catalogue the lovely sounds Jim makes when Leonard sucks on his bottom lip or bites down and lets the swollen, heated flesh slip slowly from between his teeth.

He's being a little cruel, too, plucking at Jim's nipples until they're red and puffy, until every single touch makes Jim writhe and whimper into his mouth.

"You're so fucking beautiful, darlin'," Leonard murmurs, to make him squirm more than any touch ever could. There's an idea forming in the back of his mind but it requires some planning, some effort to execute as properly as Jim deserves. Maybe it's not for tonight. Tonight he just wants to take Jim's mind off that fucking board meeting and tell him how good he's being.

And maybe fill him with come. "Gunna let me fuck you sweetheart? Beg me to fill that sweet hole of yours up? I want you to ride my cock like you were born to do it."

Jim shudders and moans. "Yes, that. Please, daddy."

He's already so soft and pliant, relaxed from long minutes of licking Leonard's fingers clean, of Leonard's hands mapping his skin, and he's warming with their continued proximity. Leonard fumbles between the couch cushions to find the lube he optimistically stashed there earlier, slicks his fingers, unheeding of the mess dripping onto his pants. Better that than having to explain stains on the upholstery, although his cock is beginning to chafe uncomfortably against his zipper in protest. 

That problem only worsens when he feels the heat of Jim's hole at his fingertips, the immediate give and the weakened clutch that tell him he's not the first one to touch there that night.

Without thinking, he clenches his other fist in Jim's hair, holds him close to snarl, "What have you been doing?"

Jim squirms, eyes wide, cheeks flushed. "I couldn't wait. I just wanted to be ready."

"And you didn't think I might want to do that myself? That I might want you sobbing and begging with need by the time I have you sitting on my cock? That I might want to know that nobody else has been inside you, that you've been waiting for me-"

"I have been waiting!" Jim's still squirming, but not to escape, just to feel the pull on his hair a little more, to push his ass against Leonard's fingers, kept intentionally unresisting so he can't find relief. "I just wanted you so bad. I didn't know if we'd have time-"

"If you have complaints about how long I've been taking-"

"No!" Jim objects.

That's when Leonard realises- "You knew. You knew I'd hate that, and you did it anyway. You're trying to get me to punish you."

"Please, daddy, please, I've been so bad. I fucked myself on my fingers before coming over-"

Leonard yanks his hair with another growl. "Did you come?"

Jim doesn't answer, instead just staring at him, wide-eyed, guilty, deceptively apologetic. Like he's dreading what's to come, but it's something he needs.

Leonard disagrees. "You're not going to like what I do to you next. I want a number between one and ten, a measure of how bad you think you've been. And I'll base your punishment on that."

"Eight." There's a hitch in Jim's voice as he answers, and Leonard feels like he shouldn't be enjoying this as much as he is but he lets his hand slip around to cradle Jim's jaw, pushes his thumb into that hot, wet mouth and moans softly when Jim sucks obediently, keeps his teeth clear, reminds him of exactly how good it feels to have all of that wrapped around his cock.

"Tell me why," he urges, low, pulls his thumb out to smear across that soft bottom lip so it's glistening, kissing Jim hard and wet before he can respond, making him whimper.

"'Cause I came without your permission. Because I didn't trust you to know what's best for me. I'd never let anyone else touch me, daddy. Only you."

Despite everything, Leonard feels himself warming, heart softening at those words. "You mean that?"

It's appalling. He's hopelessly and endlessly lovesick. Jim gazes back at him with, Leonard imagines, that same utter devotion. "Yeah, Bones. Just you, daddy"."

So Leonard kisses him, slow and gentle, forgetting all else for a moment and just losing himself in the taste of Jim, at once his boss and his beautiful, submissive lover. Jim's tongue slides against his and he's a wonderful, heavy weight in Leonard's lap, but he has promised so much and he plans to deliver.

"You tell me to stop, I will," he says, though, and Jim has learned enough about him to know that he needs to nod, understanding, rather than dismissing the idea. Leonard pushes it a little further, because he knows that's what he's about to do physically, too. "One word. Just say stop. That's all I need."

Jim nods. "I know. I will."

"Then I need you to get up. I'm going to take you to bed. Go upstairs. The door to my room is open. I want you to lay on the bed, however you’re comfortable.”

Jim’s a little confused, but he trusts. He slips from Leonard’s lap and goes with minimal hesitation, and Leonard immediately misses his warmth but he needs to do this. Jim saunters off, naked and so stunning that Leonard wants to crawl after him on his knees, just begging for a scrap of his attention.

Instead, he takes a moment to compose himself, and then he pushes down his unease as he raids a cupboard for something he needs, casting aside glitter and stickers and cutouts of implausibly girlish subjects in favour of a single box he brings with him when he also heads upstairs.

Sprawled on his back, on Leonard’s sheets -and doesn’t that just give him a telling surge of possessive lust- Jim eyes him curiously as he sets the box on the bedside table. When he sees what it is, Jim relaxes a little, like he knows what’s coming. Leonard’s willing to bet Jim has no idea what he actually has planned.

“Eight,” he says, as a reminder, and Jim’s brow creases as he nods. He’s worried. He has every right to be. This is a punishment, after all.

Leonard feels a little bad about how much he’s going to enjoy it, unbuttons his pants and sighs, relieved, when he finally lets them drop. Jim licks his lips when Leonard adjusts himself, stretching the confines of his black briefs, not quite ready to be naked yet. And then he reaches out, dips into that box for the first of the washable markers.

He spends a long moment just standing there, taking in the view before him, Jim’s glorious body and the flush across his cheeks, the apprehension creeping into his expression but doing nothing to soften the anticipatory erection he’s sporting. Jim’s splayed out, knows better than to touch with Leonard so close, even if he forgets when he’s alone, apparently, a fact evident in the shine Leonard can just glimpse on the skin between his legs.

“I’m going to start here. Because if we get no further than this first word, I want you to know. This is what you are.”

Jim bites his lips and nods, stays perfectly still except for his laboured breathing as Leonard uncaps the pen and chooses a spot, one where Jim will be able to see it no matter where on his body he looks. Right across his pectorals. Leonard has to kneel by Jim’s head to write it upside down, so that Jim can read it without assistance. It distracts Jim to have him so close, which is probably a good thing, one cautious hand coming up to trail fingers over his thigh, Jim’s beautiful eyes gazing up at him. 

It's pleasant, but Leonard is focused on his task.

Jim might tell him to stop after this first word, because he can’t stand the thought of seven more in the same vein. He makes every single one of the four letters count, writes them blocky and clear, in black pen, despite the hitching breaths that reveal Jim’s anxiety and make his chest shift.

Leonard lays down beside him, meets his doubtful eyes, leans in for a kiss that’s gratefully accepted, cautiously returned.

“The point of a punishment is that you don’t enjoy it.” Leonard cradles Jim’s jaw, blocks his view, doesn’t let him look away just yet. “You did something you knew I wouldn’t approve of. You acted in a certain way. That act does not define you.” He waits for a shaky nod before he releases him, staying close, not touching while Jim takes another deep breath and squeezes his eyes shut, and then looks down.

He makes a soft, strangled sound when he sees the word, closes his eyes tightly for a moment before visibly, clearly forcing himself to look. He’s been uncharacteristically silent for too long, and Leonard leans in to nose as his cheek, to press a kiss to the spot just in front of his ear.

“What does it say, baby?” he asks, so low that anybody any further away would have struggled to hear him.

Jim, though, hears it just fine. He shivers, and then he whispers, disbelievingly. “Good.”

“That’s right,” Leonard kisses that same spot again, can feel Jim trembling, reaches out to trace those letters with one finger. “You are. Sometimes you act a little bad. But it doesn’t change what you are. Tell daddy what you are, baby.”

Jim’s eyes are wet. For a moment, Leonard thinks that as soon as he opens his mouth, all this will be over. But then Jim whispers, just barely, “I’m good.”

It’s a rote repetition, Jim obedient rather than convinced, but Leonard’s thrilled to hear it all the same. He presses a few more kisses to Jim’s cheek, just lets him stare for a while longer at his label, and then he asks. “Are you ready for seven more?”

Apparently, Jim had forgotten his chosen number; he stares, disbelieving, and then pleading, and then he licks his lips and closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. And he nods. Leonard’s sure his smile splits his face, can barely manage to kiss Jim properly, he’s so pleased. It’s going well.

And Jim’s laughing at him, just a little, and the sound warms his heart, spreads through his veins, carrying the arousal he’d forgotten about in his concern. It floods through him with renewed vigour, and he wraps a hand just loosely around Jim’s throat as he kisses him hard and deep just so he can swallow his answering whimper.

"So fucking good," he breathes, trailing kisses down that perfect throat, shuffling around so he's leaning over Jim, aligned with him, feeling him arch and cling. “So fucking good, and utterly, impossibly gorgeous.”

The praise makes Jim hum happily, although his breath hitches when Leonard kneels up, straddling his waist, and reaches for another pen. It’s a longer word, but Leonard manages to write it mostly legibly down one of Jim’s sides, across his ribs, so he can read it but only if he twists a little.

He does. He looks at it for a while, taking in every letter at a time, maybe searing them into his mind or attempting to forget them entirely, and then he looks to Leonard with hesitation in his eyes.

Leonard smiles at him, for him, throws the pen aside and brushes his thumb across the length of one defined cheekbone. “What are you, baby?”

“I’m-“ Jim’s voice comes out too shrill so he swallows, closes tear-filled eyes for a moment, has to be struggling to see through his tears. Leonard’s never seen anything like him, never heard any words that make his heart ache and his cock twitch like the strangled ones Jim manages in that moment. “I’m gorgeous.”

That’s all it takes for the tears to spill, for Leonard’s cock to dampen the material of his briefs, for Leonard to lean down and cradle Jim’s face with both hands, to wipe at the tracks left by those tears with his thumbs. “You are. So gorgeous. I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as you, my whole damn life.”

Jim reaches for him and Leonard holds him, blankets Jim’s body with his own, holds himself up on his elbow, only just, to keep from crushing him, while the other wraps around Jim’s waist.

This is far too soon, but nothing has never felt so right. There’s not a thing that makes Leonard reconsider except for some abstract idea of what they should be doing. He’s never held much stock in that, doesn’t imagine Jim has, either. In lieu of saying any of that, he waits until the tears have stopped, kisses the tracks they’ve left, strokes Jim’s hair, pets his face, until those reddened eyes open and focus on him again. And then he reaches for another pen. In purple, he writes nine letters, thick and clear, running all the way down the top of Jim’s lightly furred thigh.

“You’re so beautiful I can hardly stand it,” Leonard manages to put into words, everything else he’s feeling saved to be unpacked later, when he doesn’t need to be giving Jim all the attention he deserves.

“Not so bad yourself, Bones,” Jim sounds so choked Leonard can’t bring himself to correct his address, proud of him for saying anything at all.

“Kind of you to say.” He reaches for another pen instead, writes four orange letters across Jim’s palm. He covers them with his own hand, though, until Jim pouts, like he needs the reminder. “What are you?”

“I’m-“ Like he needs to read it off his leg, Jim stalls, looks down. His damp lashes flutter as he reads the word, repeating it with a breathless disbelief, “Beautiful.”

“Good boy,” Leonard kisses the palm he’s just written on, enjoys dragging it out a little too much, Jim craning his neck to read what’s written there. He’s not quite hard any more, but he seems to be enjoying himself, even though it’s not the route Leonard had meant to take with the evening. The result will be the same, but this anticipation sizzles through Leonard’s veins, his desire for power and his supposedly conflicting caretaking instinct somehow combined in whatever the hell it is they’re getting up to. He loves this.

“I’m kind,” Jim’s still a little vague, but this time he sounds thoughtful, too, like this is one he might feel a little more able to accept. Leonard is wearing him down.

Which reminds him. He gives Jim a soft, lingering kiss, sits up, straddles Jim’s thighs and reaches for another marker, taps it against his lips for a while as he thinks of just where he wants to write this word. Beneath him, Jim shifts restlessly, and it makes his cock bob attractively against his stomach. He’s getting hard again. Gets off on being denied. Leonard is very, very glad he knows that.

Jim’s stomach twitches and ripples as he writes his chosen word across abdominal muscles. It’s not too difficult to write it upside down, although it ends up somewhat wobbly because of his ever-shifting canvas. Leonard sets his free hand on Jim’s hip and holds him down, just makes him whine and press into it, his cock hard and aching, touching his belly in between two of the letters, beading pre-come that threatens to drip. Leonard’s indulging himself too, can’t help it, leans down to lap it up, makes Jim sob.

“More than halfway there, baby.” Leonard murmurs against those same twitching stomach muscles, kissing sweat-damp skin, looks up to meet desperate, pleading eyes and smiles. He touches the slightest, gentlest kiss, barely even a brush of lips to Jim’s glans and then straightens. “Read it for me.”

This one makes Jim snort. It seems like one that might be closer to something he could admit, but he still has to swallow and falters before he says, with an uncertain expression. “I’m smart.”

“One of the smartest men I’ve ever met.”

“Feel like that maybe says more about you than it does about me.”

“Oh, I see-“ Leonard pinches Jim’s ass, can just about reach the fleshy side of it, to make him squirm at the sudden pain and heat. “Found your voice now, have you? I’m paying you all these compliments and all you want to do is sass me? Not a smart move, sweetheart.”

Jim smirks like his point has been proved, and Leonard pinches one of his nipples and twists to make him wail and arch, doesn’t let up until Jim sobs, shuddering and then brushes his thumb over the sensitive bud, not quite soothing. At no point does Jim try physically to stop him, arms lax at his sides. So trusting, in his body, if not in his mind.

“We’ve gone over this. Sometimes you act out-“ A great way to stop Jim from talking, Leonard discovers then, is to push a finger between his lips, have him suck instead of speaking, his soft, wet tongue getting to work. He can still form words, make any objections he wants, but it stops him from mouthing off and Leonard is distracted for a moment by how good it feels. “But those actions do not define you. They don't even begin to encompass all that you are."

Something in Jim’s eyes softens, and Leonard smiles at him, leans down for a kiss, replacing his finger with his tongue for a few long slow moments. He pulls back just enough to murmur. “Start again. Tell me. Right from the beginning.”

Jim lets out a soft cry of objection, looks pitiful, eyes pleading.

“Or tell me to stop,” Leonard reminds him again, gently, and Jim shakes his head frantically, bites his lip, looks away. “Then tell me what you are.”

Jim sobs, but his cock is harder than it’s ever been, leaking in regular pulses onto his belly. Leonard dips his thumb in that forming puddle, wipes the fluid across Jim’s bottom lip and meets Jim’s tongue with his own when he bends to lick it clean, hot and wet and salty, a soft, dirty kiss.

“You’re good. Say it. Tell daddy what you are.”

“I-“ Jim begins, strains upwards for another last moment where their mouths are connected as Leonard draws back to listen, “I’m good, daddy.”

“So good,” Leonard agrees, with a final kiss before he trails his lips down Jim’s jaw, tastes the salt of sweat and tears, of Jim’s strength. “So good for me, right now and always, baby. Keep going.”

“I’m gorgeous.”

Leonard scrapes his teeth against the soft skin over Jim’s pounding pulse point. “You are, darlin’. I’m so lucky. What’s next?”

“I’m-“ Jim shifts restlessly, like he might be trying to resist something within him physically, even though he’s free to move, to stop this at any time. When he speaks, it’s in a whisper. “I’m beautiful.”

“Yes.” Leonard growls and sets about sucking a mark, more permanent than the pen, into Jim’s pectoral, where nobody will know it’s there but him. It makes Jim whine, pant and thread shaking fingers through his hair, a wordless plea for more than Leonard indulges for a while. Just while he makes that mark deep and purple then pushes his fingers into the bruise to make Jim squirm as Leonard kisses his way down his sternum. They’re both going to end up covered in smudges of ink, he knows. “Keep going. And I will, too.”

“I’m kind.”

“Mm-hm.”

“And- I’m smart.”

“That’s it, sweetheart. All caught up. Are you ready for the next one?” Leonard’s waiting, hovering, his lips just inches above Jim’s hard, reddened cock as he meets Jim’s eyes.

“I’m ready, daddy, please.” Jim’s breathing is ragged, comes even shorter when Leonard kisses his way down, dragging his lips against silken, hot skin. He keens, trembles with the suppressed urge to push against Leonard’s touch, to seek more. He’s behaving himself so well.

Leonard can’t wait to reward him. He has to break away to pick up another pen, takes the opportunity to truly enjoy the sight before him, Jim marked up and sweating, flushed red pretty much all the way down, chest heaving, eyes dark and glassy.

“You’re doing so good, baby. I’m so proud,” Leonard tells him, and touches his stomach to watch him shiver, to see his eyelashes flutter. “Just three more. And then you can come. Just wait a little longer for me.”

The next word needs to go on Jim’s bicep. It makes him laugh, breathlessly, when he sees it, and he stares at it for a while with a small smile on his face while Leonard trails his fingers up and down Jim’s chest, waiting to see if he’s learned enough to do what Leonard wants without having to be reminded.

“I’m strong,” Jim says, with a pleased little smile he directs shyly at Leonard. He shudders, eyes rolling back in his head when Leonard brushes his thumb up the length of the underside of Jim’s cock, begins to massage in circles at the sensitive spot just beneath the head, pressing down against his belly.

“You certainly are. You’re also-“ Leonard picks up one more pen, has to release Jim’s cock, makes him whine his objection, hips hitching involuntarily, and shuffles back to settle between Jim’s legs. He lifts one of Jim’s knees, holds it in place, and begins to write slowly, gently, down the length of his inner thigh. He has eight letters this time, in a lurid pink, and every single swipe of the pen makes Jim’s breath come faster. He’s sensitive, and wound up, and desperate.

Leonard writes slower.

He has Jim whimpering by the time he finishes, blows over the ink as if to make sure it dries, although it never will, with the sweat-damp skin it’s written on, with what Leonard plans to do to him next. Jim shudders, has to blink the glassiness from his eyes before he can read it, and repeats it without even seeming to think about the words.

“I’m powerful.”

Leonard eases Jim’s leg down, settles between the splay of inked thighs, strokes his hands along the inner softness of them. He goes back and forth, gets a little closer to Jim’s ass every time, muses half to himself, “Yes, you are. I can’t take my eyes off you at work, you know. Don’t you dare let anyone tell you you’re not making a difference. Because you damn well are, to me.”

He smiles at Jim’s overwhelmed expression, reaches for another pen with one hand and presses the other behind Jim’s balls, inching back. “So close, baby. Just one more.”

It’s somewhat difficult to write while he finds himself suddenly desperately hard himself, pushing two fingers inside Jim’s still-loosened hole, finding it hot and just slick enough for what he needs to do, clutching arrhythmically around him. He wants, so much, to just shove his cock inside and fuck Jim like they’re both craving, but it’s not the time. He doesn’t want to have to fumble for more lube, and he definitely doesn’t want to hurt Jim. No amount of short-term relief is worth the risk of that.

Instead, he searches with his fingers, and he massages, and he watches Jim writhe and squirm and pant, still attempting to behave. Leonard wouldn’t begrudge him too much at this stage; he has to be so close and his cock is leaking copiously, making a mess of his lovely toned stomach. Leonard’s mouth waters at the sight of it.

Somehow, with his right hand, he’s still writing. It’s maybe not as clear as it could be, letters uneven and wobbly up Jim’s side, the one so far unmarred, seven letters that make tears shine in Jim’s eyes once again, even as his breath hitches.

“Daddy, please.”

God, Leonard wants to bottle the sound of Jim begging and keep it forever. Break it out when he’s sad or faced with the undeniable desire for this man that so often impresses him.

“One more word baby,” he says, and throws the pen aside to hunch down, to press a kiss to the head of Jim’s hot, waiting cock. “Just one more, and I promise I’ll make you come. Punishment over. Tell me.”

He licks his lips to clean them of pre-come, and it makes Jim shudder and groan, eyes slipping closed. "I'm not-"

"You are. I know you are. Say it." Leonard punctuates his demand with a particularly aggressive press against Jim's prostate.

Jim's eyes fly open so he's staring unseeing at the ceiling, his fists clenching in the sheets. He's close. But he's determined. Doesn't he know he's only proving Leonard's point? He pants, and Leonard presses harder, knows he can come just like this, scissors his fingers to make it hurt, just a little.

"Tell me, baby. Say the words. Doesn't matter if you believe it, just yet. I'll keep trying to convince you."

Nothing but nonsensical whimpers escape. Leonard swirls his tongue around the head of Jim's cock, suckles at the tip, kisses it gently.

"You can do it, baby. Tell me what you are. And then come down my throat, with my fingers inside you. Easy."

"I- daddy-" Jim whines plaintively, this last word apparently too much for him, but just as true as the rest of them, in Leonard's eyes. It's not good enough. Leonard lowers his head, nips at the sac of Jim's balls, then at the sensitive, thin skin at the inside of his thigh.

He's getting further away from where Jim wants him, and it's enough to push him into a short, desperate, panting approximation of, "I'm perfect."

"Completely," Leonard murmurs against Jim's skin, lips pressed to the crease between his groin and thigh, tongue just lapping at the salt sweat he finds there. "And utterly. You are the most perfect human being I have ever seen, Jim."

Finally -and if he's feeling such relief, he can only imagine how Jim copes- he swallows down Jim's cock, presses harder with his fingers, and sucks. 

It is honestly like Jim has been waiting for that confirmation of permission. With only a few aborted thrusts of his hips, hitches in his breath, and a sweet keening sound, he comes. His fists are clenched in the sheets, his knuckles white, veins in his arms standing out with the effort it takes him to relax, to not just shove himself down Leonard's throat.

The effort is appreciated. After coaxing him as gently as possible through the aftershocks until his oversensitivity renders the touch unbearable, Leonard lets his softening cock slip from between his lips, eases Jim's hands free and guides them to his sides as he straddles Jim's stomach and ungracefully shoves his briefs down to stroke, hard and too-hot and desperate, at his own cock, slicked only with his own spit but enough that he comes with a heartfelt groan that could have been torn from his chest. He paints Jim's skin, over those words that he still means, so absolutely, a couple of drops landing on his face, streaking his throat.

He looks fucking beautiful, opens those ridiculous eyes, is dazed and sated and doesn't Leonard just know how he feels. More words threaten to escape in the heat and softness of the moment, but those he swallows down. That would be genuinely ridiculous, would cheapen everything he's worked so hard for, this evening. He pets Jim's hair instead, rearranges himself so they're laying side by side, tangled together, exchanging soft kisses. Jim's warm and soft. He’s a mess.

They both are.

Leonard gets a hand on the ‘ _perfect’_ written up Jim’s side, and squeezes, makes Jim squirm with the attention or the tickling sensation.

One of the markers is still on the bed, leaving an increasingly large red smudge on Leonard’s blue sheets, and he reaches for it.

“One last one,” he says, kissing Jim’s pout. “I know, I know. You’re done. But this last word- I don’t need you to say it. I want you to. But this one is a choice. Will you let me?”

Jim blinks. He’s still a little vague, a little slow, coming down from his well-earned orgasm, covered in words and Leonard’s come, skin pleasingly flushed. He examines Leonard carefully for a moment, and then he nods.

“Thank you, sweetheart. Turn over for me.”

It’s a little hard writing the letters backwards, but Leonard does it, bigger and thicker than any of the others so Jim will be able to see it, even in the mirror he’ll need. He writes slowly, so it’s clear, and so he can think about what he’s doing, so he can consider and then decide on the question mark he writes beneath the word. He wants to leave no doubt that this is not part of the same game, that Jim is under no obligation to repeat this one.

“Thank you, baby,” he says, and he presses soft kisses to the nape of Jim’s neck, making him shiver and surprised to find that he’s trembling a little himself, with the nerves. This is big, even for them, and they’ve done everything in entirely the wrong order so far.

Slowly, he helps Jim to his feet and into the bathroom, is gratefully leaned on, Jim’s weight heavy and solid against his side, curious eyes on him all the while. The bathroom mirror is above the sink, and Jim perches on the edge, draws Leonard in close with arms around his neck to give him a long, lazy kiss Leonard wants to drown in. He’s so fucking beautiful, and with those claims all over him, those words that Leonard is intent on making him believe, with fluid drying on his stomach and chest, with his tongue coaxing Leonard’s into responding, he is everything Leonard’s ever dreamed.

The moment of truth comes too soon. When Leonard draws back, he can see the word correctly in the reflection behind Jim, the question he should be too terrified to ask. He wants to hide and shy away from every possible response, but he’s already chastised Jim enough for that, just asks if he’ll look with a pointed glance and an increase in his heartrate. He has to know.

Jim turns. He stares. He swallows thickly. The emotions in his eyes are entirely unreadable, reflected as they are in the mirror, and so Leonard closes his own, unwilling to put himself through analysing every single tiny facet of that expression.

It means it’s a surprise when Jim’s mouth finds his, clumsy and unsteady, mumbling against his lips the answer to the question he hadn’t quite dared to ask out loud. “I’m yours.”

It’s been a long fucking week. That’s why it sounds like Leonard sobs with relief, clutches at this perfect, ridiculous man and holds him close. They’ve been through so much in such a short period of time that it feels like they’ve known each other forever, that they’ve just been waiting for confirmation that it’s okay, how they feel. That they can have fallen so hard and so fast that they are a collective mess rather than the individual ones they were before.

Leonard reaches around, presses his hand over the letters he wrote with so much care and doubt, scratches his nails through the question as though he can erase ever having asked, because he should have known.

“You mine, baby?” he asks, anyway, just to hear Jim’s answer.

“I’m yours, daddy.”

**Author's Note:**

> I’m also on [Tumblr](https://aishahiwatari.tumblr.com/)


End file.
